PRETTY  ROSE  HALL 

OR 

The  Power  of  Love 
BY 

LAURA  JEAN  LIBBEY 


HART  SERIES  No,   39 


COPYRIGHT  1885  BY  GEO.  MUNRO. 


PUBLISHED    BY 

THE  ARTHUR  WESTBROOK  COMPANY 
CLEVELAND,  U.  S.  A. 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

Chapter  I 5 

Chapter  II    33 

Chapter  III    21 

Chapter  IV    31 

Chapter  V     36 

Chapter  VI    43 

Chapter  VII    50 

Chapter  VIII    57 

Chapter  IX    (53 

Chapter  X    70 

Chapter  XI    76 

Chapter  XII    82 

Chapter  XIII    88 

Chapter  XIV     , 94 

Chapter  XV.  .'.• .' ..  .  .  : 100 

Chapter  XVf  -•.-. *! 106 

Chapter  XVII   4 '. 112 

Chapter  XYHI:  ;.";,.':..,....::., 119 

Chapter* XIX  .;/.*..... :.  :.*.:.'..: 125 

Chapter  XX 130 

Chapter  XXI   137 

Chapter  XXTT   143 

Chapter  XXIII 150 

Chapter  XXJV    156 

Chapter  XXV   162 

Chapter  XXVI    1 70 

Chapter  XXVIT    174 

Chapter  XXVIII    .• 180 

Chapter  XXIX    186 

Chapter  XXX    1 03 

Chapter  XXXI    199 

Chapter  XXXTT 505 

Chapter  XXXTTT    211 

Chapter  XXXIV 217 

Chapter  XXV    223 

Chapter  XXXVI    ?29 

Chapter  XXXVTT 

Chapter  XXXVIII  

Ohapter  XXXIX -  .24? 

Chapter  XL   252 


PRETTY  ROSE    HALL 

OR 

The   Power  of  Lpve 


CHAPTER  I. 

"  Rose — Rose!  where  can  she  be?  Aunt  Hulda  will 
be  so  very  angry  with  her  when  she  discovers  what 
she  has  done." 

The  words  were  uttered  in  a  sweet  anxious  voice, 
by  a  fair-haired  young  girl  in  a  blue  sailor  suit,  with 
a  sailor  hat  crushed  down  over  her  fair  curls,  who  ran 
lightly  down  the  narrow  strip  of  beach  to  the  water's 
edge,  and  shading  her  tear-swollen  blue  eyes  with  her 
little  white  hands,  looked  eagerly  over  the  vast  expanse 
of  wave  rippling  and  dancing  under  the  golden  light 
of  the  June  sunshine. 

"  It  is  almost  noon  and  Rose  has  been  gone  since 
early  morning;  what  could  have  detained  her?  what 
if  anything  has  happened  to  her>  our  beautiful,  daring, 
willful  Rose!  " 

Lillian  Hall's  heart  gave  a  quick  terrified  throb  at 
the  bare  thought. 

Vv'ith  a  thoughtful  face  she  turned  and  retraced  her 
stens  to  the  old  light-house,  that  stood  like  a  monu- 

970400 


6  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

ment  in  gray  stone  on  this  little  island  on  the  Maine 
coast. 

Lillian  and  Rose  Hall  were  the  nieces  of  Abel  Martin, 
the  old  light-house  keeper.  A  strange  mystery 
shrouded  their  presence  here.  Why  two  young  and 
startlingly  Ipvejy  gjrljs  were  forced  to  dwell  within 
the'citeary  wV-lls  b'f:  the  isolated  old  light-house,  where 
no  Jiurna.n  ,ey«,;  r,av:e  tthat'.of  Abel  Martin  and  his  wife 
Kvikla;  ever. 'dwek-:up'6ri' their  wondrous  beauty,  is  the 
story  we  have  to  tell. 

Lillian  was  seventeen ;  Rose  a  year  younger. 

Lillian  was  sweet  and  good  with  the  fair  beauty  of 
an  angel,  but  Rose — ah,  how  shall  I  find  words  to  de 
scribe  the  dark,  passionate,  glowing  beauty  of  Rose 
Hall — the  young  girl  whose  life  held  so  tragic  a  story. 
A  dark,  piquant,  dimpled  face ;  cheeks  and  lips  as  crim 
son  as  the  glowing  heart  of  the  flowers  whose  name 
she -bore;  great,  dark,  velvety.  Oriental  eyes  shaded 
by  the  longest  and  silkiest  of  lashes,  a  low,  broad  brow 
crowned  with  rings  of  curling  love-locks,  darker  than 
a  raven's  plume,  and  a  saucy  smiling  mouth  that 
seemed  made  only  for  love's  sweet  kisses,  and  rippling 
taughter. 

Lillian  was  gentle  and  good.     Rose,  gay,  dashing, 

restless  Rose,  was  full  of  faults;  at  once  the  torment 

and  darling  of  the  light-house.     With  all  her  faults, 

imperious,  willful,  beautiful  Rose,  was  the  best  loved 

'"and  most  carefully  guarded. 

On  this  June  morning  a  strange  event  shrouded  in 
the  deepest  mystery  happened,  which  was  to  break  up 
Jbrever  the  peace  and  quiet  of  the  inmates  of  the  light 
house  on  the  isolated  island. 

Late  that  morning  a  stranger  had  visited  the  island, 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

placing  in  Abel  Martin's  hands  a  thick  square  package 
in  a  large  official  envelope,  bearing  a  foreign  post 
mark  The  moment  the  old  light-house  keeper's  eyes 
fell  upon  it — even  before  he  took  it  in  his  shaking 
hands,  he  knew  but  too  well  what  it  contained,  that 
which  he  most  dreaded  had  happened  atjast.  . 

Neither  Lillian  or  Rose  saw  the  stranger  come  or 
saw  him  depart.  Together,  with ,b?ted  breath,  Abel 
Martin  and  his  wife,  Hulda,  scanned  the  folded  slip  of 
paper  which  bore  their  names,  slowly  reading  the 
command  written  there. 

"Oh,  my  God!  "  cried  Hulda,  pale  as  death,  with  in 
tense  excitement,  "  it  is  too  late  to  think  of  such  a 
thing  after  all  these  years.  It  must  not,  it  shall  not  be. 
I  would  rather  see  them  both  dead  and  buried,"  she 
cried  out,  bitterly,  covering  her  head  with  her  gingham 
apron,  and  rocking  herself  to  and  fro  in  utter  abandon. 
"  Abel,''  she  cried,  creeping  up  to  him  and  laying  her 
trembling  hand  on  his  arm,  "  I  am  strongly  tempted  to 
throw  this  letter  into  the  sea,  oh,  so  bitterly,  cruelly 
tempted.  It  would  be  better  for  both  Lillian  and 
Rose/'  she  added,  hoarsely.  "  No  one  could  prove  that 
we  received  it,  despite  what  the  messenger  may  say. 
It  is  for  us  to  deny  it." 

"  Duty  is  duty,  Hulda,"  replied  the  old  light-house 
keeper,  in  a  voice  equally  as  husky  as  her  own.  "  Re 
member,  the  choice  is  left  with  the  girls.  I  will  stake 
my  life  upon  it  neither  of  them  will  decide — " 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  a  light  step  sounded 
on  the  gravel  walk  outside  the  door,  and  Lillian 
entered. 

She  had  quite  expected   to  hear  the  question  from 


8  PRETTY    ROSE    HALT,. 

her  aunt's  lips,  "  Where  is  Rose?"  and  she  knew  that 
she  must  answer  truthfully. 

"  Rose  has  disobeyed  you,  Aunt  Httlda,  she  has 
taken  the  little  boat  and  gone  out  upon  the  water 
some  hours  -since." 

Tliefi:stie  w0ul<J4'jjHt  lier  arms  around  Aunt  Hulda's 
neck,  an'd  with'  tears"  in  her  eyes  plead  for  pardon  for 


To  her  great  surprise  the  question  was  not  asked, 
instead  a  startling  announcement  fell  from  her  aunt's 
lips. 

"  Lillian,"  she  said,  caressing-  the  girl's  fair  hair,  and 
striving  to  choke  back  her  bitter  j.obs  and  speak  calmly, 
"  I  have  a  —  a  —  little  —  surprise  in  store  for  you  and 
Rose.  You  must  both  dress  yourselves  as  quickly  as 
possible,  we  are  to  start  within  the  hour  for  Rocky 
Point.  We  may  be  gone  a  week,  perhaps  a  fortnight." 

Lillian  looked  up  aghast.  All  her  life  both  she  and 
Rose  had  pleaded  for  the  privilege  of  accompanying 
their  aunt  or  uncle  when  they  made  their  periodical 
trips  to  Rocky  Point,  and  it  had  been  sl-ric:ly  denied 
them.  What  prompted  her  aunt  to  propose  it;  now  she 
could  not  even  conjecture. 

"  We  can  not  start  within  the  hour,  aunt/'  she  fal 
tered,  "  Rose  is  not  here,"  and  in  her  gentle  way  she 
confessed  what  Rose  had  done. 

She  expected  a  torrent  of  rage,  instead  her  aunt  stood 
looking  at  her  with  a  look  in  her  eyes  she  could  not 
fathom. 

There  was  a  terrible  war  raging  just  then  in  Hulda 
Martin's  bosom.  Had  Providence  a  hand  in  absent 
ing  Rose  from  the  island  on  this  fatal  day  when  all  her 
future  was  at  stake?  Had  fate  a  hand  in  it? 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  9 

A  >\viit  and  terrible  temptation  occurred  to  rer. 
Why  not  leave  Rose  behind  and  spare  her?  Not  but 
what'  she  loved  Lillian ;  but,  ah !  she  loved  Rose  best. 
If  Rose  could  but  be  spared ! 

Fiercely  the  battle  between  right  and  wrong1  waged 
in  the  woman's  soul.  It  was  over  at  last — wrong  had 
triumphed  over  right.  For  weal  or  for  woe,  she  had 
shaped  Rose's  fate. 

"  Then  you  and  I  will  go,  Lillian,"  she  said,  steadily. 
"Rose  shall  stop  at  home;  we  must  start  within  the 
hour." 

"  Oh,  no ;  let  us  wait  for  Rose !  "  cried  gentle  Lillian, 
in  dismay.  "  How  could  I  remain  away  from  her  a 
whole  week — I,  who  have  never  been  separated  from 
her  an  hour  in  her  life?  " 

Despite  Lillian's  anxious  pleading,  Hulda  Martin 
was  inexorable.  If  Rose  was  not  on  hand  they  would  go 
without  her. 

Half  an  hour  later  they  had  left  the  island. 

"By  not  taking  Rose  I  have  spared  her,"  was  the 
exultant  thought  that  filled  Hulda  Martin's  heart. 

The  boat  containing  Hulda  Martin  and  Lillian  had 
scarcely  faded  from  sight  ere  a  young  girl  came  rowing 
over  the  sunlit  waters  in  a  little  skiff.  It  was  the 
truant  Rose. 

"  Dear  me !  "  she  cried,  tying  the  fluttering  crimson, 
ribbon  more  securely  under  her  dimpled  chin  with  her 
slim  brown  fingers,  and  puckering  her  jetty  brows  into 
something  very  like  a  frown,  "  it  looks  like  rain — and 
a  terrble  rain-storm,  too — or  I  should  not  think  of  going 
home  for  at  least  an  hf.-ur  yet :  but  Lillian  will  be  lonely. 
I  must  go  IK- 

Still,  it  was  so  pleasant  out  on  the  water  the  girl  did 


10  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

not  pr.t  her  resolution  into  execution  until  the  great 
tain-drups  splashing  upon  her  face  startled  her. 

Abel  Martin  sat  smoking  his  pipe  in  the  doorway 
of  the  light-house  as  Rose  came  running  up  the  steep 
path,  flinging  the  rain  from  her  long  black  curls. 

"  I  suppose  the  storm  blew  you  in,"  he  remarked. 

Rose  laughed. 

"Where's  Lillian,  uncle?"  she  asked,  glancing, 
around  in  surprise. 

"  Ay,  ay,  lass ;  that's  just  what  I  was  about  to  tell 
you,"  he  said  slowly,  "  and  there's  no  use  in  your  fuss 
ing  and  storming  about  it.  Your  aunt  and  Lillian  have 
gone  to  Rocky  Point  for  a  few  days.  You  wasn't  on 
hand ;  you  stole  away  for  a  lark  on  the  water  all  by 
yourself,  so  now  you  are  to  pay  the  penalty  by  stop 
ping  at  home  here  " 

"  But  I  won't !  "  cried  Rose,  stormily,  breaking  into 
a  paroxysm  of  angry  tears.  "  I  will  follow  them  to 
Rocky  Point,  even  if  it  were  storming  twice  as  hard !  " 
she  cried,  stamping  her  foot.  "It  was  infamous  not  to 
take  me !  "  and  the  willful  little  beauty  threw  herself 
down  in  Lillian's  arm-chair,  sobbing  as  though  her 
heart  would  break. 

A  week  at  the  lonely  old  light-house,  with  only  her 
uncle  and  old  Deborah,  the  servant,  for  companions ! 
How  could  she  ever  endure  it?  how  could  she  live 
through  it  ? 

She  made  up  her  mind  to  follow  them  as  soon  as  the 
storm  should  show  signs  of  abating,  for  she  well  knew 
no  boat  could  live  on  the  water  just  then. 

And  when  pretty,  willful  Rose  once  made  up  her 
mind  to  do  anything,  all  opposition  was  in  vain. 

But   as   the   nii^ht   came   on   the   terrible   storm   in- 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  11 

creased.  It  was  the  worst  night  that  had  been  known 
on  the  Maine  coast  tVr  years. 

"  Heaven  help  the  vessels  out  on  the  water  to 
night,'5  old  Abel  muttered  as  he  hobbled  up  the  steep 
steps  to  the  tower  to  light  the  beacon  lights. 

The  wind  outside  howrled  like  a  banshee ;  the  great 
waves  mountain  high  lashed  into  fury  by  the  mad, 
driving  storm,  broke  with  a  fearful  roar  over  the  gray 
walls  of  the  light-house  till  it  trembled  and  rocked  on 
its  foundation. 

The  sea-gulls,  breasting  the  white-capped,  curling 
waves,  mingled  their  terrible  screams  with  the  wild 
warring  of  the  tempest.  The  rain  fell  in  torrents; 
thunder  and  vivid  forks  of  lightning  were  belched 
forth  from  the  ink-black  sky. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  very  flood-gates  of  heaven  were 
opened  wide  to  drown  the  quivering  earth  on  this 
terrible  and  memorable  night. 

Rose  Hall  had  followed  her  uncle  to  the  tower  and 
together  they  lighted  the  lamps,  both  praying  that 
no  vessel  was  out  breasting  the  fearful  storni — to  have 
need  of  the  signals  in  the  tower  to  warn  them  off  the 
dangerous  rocks. 

Hark !  what  was  it  that  sounded  over  the  fierce  roar 
of  the  maddened  elements.  Rose  and  her  uncle  strain 
their  ears  to  listen.  The  sound  is  repeated  in  quick 
succession. 

Boom  !  boom  !  boom  ! 

They  looked  at  each  other  with  white,  startled  faces ; 
they  know  it  is  a  ship  in  distress  signaling  for  help. 
Those  on  board  have  seen  the  danger  signal ;  but,  alas, 
the  huge  waves  which  they  are  powerless  to  resist 


are  dashing  their  vessel  each  moment  nearer  the  fatal 
rocks. 

Rose  Hall  by  the  momentary  flashes  of  bright,  white 
lightning  watches  the  terrible  scene  with  horror- 
stricken  eyes. 

In  the  meteoric  light  she  sees  a  life-boat  has  been 
lowered,  and  it  is  already  full.  Another  flash  and  she 
sees  dark  forms  frantically  pacing  the  deck,  and  as  she 
gazes  those  who  have  been  left  upon  the  fated  vessel 
cast  themselves  into  the  raging  sea.  Then  darkness 
reigns. 

Rose  Hall  rises  with  a  panting  cry  and  springs  to 
ward  the  narrow  stairway  with  a  white,  set  face,  and 
reaches  for  her  oil-skin  jacket,  which  always  hangs 
there. 

But  a  heavy  hand  is  laid  on  the  girl's  shoulder. 

"What  would  you  do,  Rose?"  cried  Abel  Martin 
forcing  her  back. 

Rose  points  out  toward  the  black  sea. 

"  I  am  going  to  save  some  of  them  if  I  can,"  she 
cried,  hoarsely.  "  Let  me  go,  Uncle  Abel." 

"  Are  you  mad,  girl  ? "  cried  Abel  Martin,  aghast. 
'  The  sea  will  drag  enough  poor  souls  down  without 
you.  You  are  surely  mad." 

But  the  girl  wrenched  herself  free  from  his  grasp. 

"  I  can  not  stand  idly  by  and  see  them  perish.  I 
must  try  to  save  them.  I  am  not  afraid  of  the  water. 
You  yourself  have  always  said  I  would  never  die  by 
drowning.  I  must  try  to  save  some  of  them.  Don't 
hold  me  back." 

Two  soft  arms  hurriedly  clasped  the  old  man's  neck. 
A  warm  mouth  was  pressed  to  his  for  an  instant. 
Then,  swift  as  a  swallow,  the  girl  flew  down  the  old 


PRETTV     KO>E    HALL.  1 

rfckety  stairs  of  the  light-house  and  out  into  the  ter 
rible  storm. 

The  old  light-house  keeper  dashed  after  the  heroic 
girl  with  terrible  bitter  cries.  Too  late!  too  late! 
Tears  and  prayers  alike  are  useless  now.  The  life-boat 
of  daring  Rose  Kail  was  launched  upon  the  terrible 
sea,  the  mountain  waves  rolling  high  about  her. 


CHAPTER  II. 

In  an  instant  the  mad  waves  caught  up  the  little 
boat  and  tossed  it  far  out  upon  the  seething  waters. 

The  girl's  cheeks  paled,  but  even  in  her  deadly  peril 
her  heroic  courage  did  not  forsake  her. 

In  the  momentary  flashes  of  light  she  saw  that  she 
was  Hearing  the  doomed  vessel,  she  could  hear  the 
wild  cries  for  help  from  those  struggling  in  the  water, 
the  foremost  of  whom  was  but  a  few  rods  from  her. 

He  saw  the  dark  object  swiftly  advancing,  and  knew 
it  was  a  life-boat,  rescue  was  at  hand. 

"  Help !  help !  "  he  cried,  panting  with  exhaustion. 

"  Courage,  I  am  coming/'  Rose  answered  back  in 
a  clear  voice,  and  the  next  moment  her  little  boat  shot 
up  beside  him,  and  he  clutched  at  its  side. 

"  Climb  in — steady ! ''  cried  Rose,  fearful  lest  the  ad 
ditional  heavy  weight  at  the  side  would  upset  the  boat. 

'I  fear  I  can  not  manage  it,"  groaned  the  man; 
''"'  my  wrist  is  sprained  and  is  so  painful." 

"But  with  Rose's  aid  it  was  accomplished ;  and  he 
sunk  down  into  the  bottom  of  the  boat  quite  exhausted. 

The  tiny  boat  would  hold  no  more ;  so  Rose  bent 
again  to  the  oars,  striving  to  reach  the  beacon  lights  of 
the  light-house  that  gleamed  in  the  distance. 

In  all  the  rears  of  her  after  life  heroic  Rose  Hall 


14  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

never  forgot  the  terrible  hour  that  followed ;  how  the 
oars  were  swept  from  her  hands — broken  in  twain  like 
thin  reeds  in  a  gale.  How  the  tiny  boat  was  dashed 
about,  until  at  last  one  wave  more  terrible  than  the 
rest,  dashed  it  high  upon  the  rocks  of  her  island  home. 

The  old  light-house  keeper's  joy  knew  no  bounds. 
She  seemed  like  one  given  back  to  him  from  the 
grave. 

Between  them,  and  with  the  aid  of. the  old  servant 
they  conveyed  the  stranger,  who  had  swooned  from 
exhaustion,  into  the  house;  and  the  light  of  the  oil 
lamps  falling  full  upon  him,  revealed  to  Rose  a  fair- 
haired,  handsome  young  man. 

The  girl  watched  him  with  parted  lips ;  her  whole 
soul  in  her  eyes.  It  seemed  so  strange  that  this 
stranger  should  owe  his  very  life  to  her. 

All  unmindful  that  she  was  wet  and  cold,  and  that 
the  sea-water  was  dripping  from  her  dress,  Rose  knelt 
down  by  the  couch  and  watched  them  as  they  poured 
a  strong  draught  of  brandy  between  the  white  lips. 

At  last  he  opened  his  eyes  and  his  wondering  gaze 
fell  upon  Rose's  glowing  face.  And  in  an  instant  a 
recollection  of  what  had  happened  flashed  over  him. 
But  in  that  instant  Rose  had  disappeared. 

"Who  is  that  beautiful  girl?"  cried  the  stranger, 
drawing  his  breath  hard ;  "  for  a  moment  I  almost 
believed  I  was  in  paradise/' 

"  It  is  my  niece — Rose  Hall/'  answered  the  old  light 
house  keeper. 

"Rose  Hall,"  murmured  the  stranger;  "the  name 
is  like  a  poem,"  and  he  added  under  his  breath,  "  v> "l-o 
would  have  dreamed  of  meeting  such  a  gloriously 
beautiful  young  girl  here?  "  and  the  same  thought  t-Mt 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL.  15 

had  flitted  ihrough  Rose's  mind  came  to  him.  "  To 
think  that  I  am  indebted  to  her  for  my  life." 

All  through  the  long-  hours  of  the  night,  as  the 
stranger  tossed  restlessly  upon  the  rude  couch  in  the 
old  light-house,  listening  to  the  fitful  storm  outside, 
he  thought  of  the  lovely  face  of  Rose  Hall. 

"  Can  it  be  that  I,  who  have  seen  some  of  the  fairest 
of  girls  and  have  cared  for  none  of  them,  am  in  love 
at  last?" 

He  laughed  to  himself,  and  though  the  mouth  shaded 
by  the  golden  mustache  was  handsome,  that  laugh  was 
not  pleasant  to  hear. 

Rose  was  up  with  the  sun  the  next  morning.  A 
gold-tinted  dawn  was  born  of  the  darksome  night,  and 
the  girl  could  almost  have  thought  the  terrible  pro 
ceedings  had  been  but  a  dream,  had  it  not  been  for 
her  little  boat,  quite  a  wreck,  which  lay  upon  the  white 
sands  with  the  broken  oars  near  it. 

"  Had  the  handsome  stranger  gone?  "  she  wondered ; 
"  more  than  likely  her  uncle  had  rowed  him  over  to 
Rocky  Point.  Should  she  never  see  him  again?" 

Almost  in  answer  to  her  thoughts,  a  quick,  firm  step 
sounded  on  the  sands,  and  the  object  of  her  thoughts 
stood  before  her. 

"  Miss  Rose."  he  cried,  extending  one  of  his  hands 
to  her,  the  other  he  carried  in  a  sling,  "  how  can  I 
ever  thank  you  for  what  you  have  done  for  me?  " 

Rose's  little  brown  hand  trembled  like  a  fluttering 
bird  in  his  fervent  clasp. 

"  I  only  did  my  duty,"  she  stammered,  blushing 
hotly,  her  beautiful  dark  eyes  drooping  beneath  his 
ardent  gaze. 

"  It  is  not  one's  duty  to  peril  one's  sweet  life  for  a 


16  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

stranger,  and  you  did  this  for  me,"  he  said,  carrying  the 
hand  he  held  to  his  lips,  then  gently  releasing  it.  "  It 
will  be  a  sweet  thought  to  me,"  he  continued,  ''to  know 
that  1  owe  my  life  to  you.  I  shall  never  forget  you." 

Beautiful,  shy  Rose  was  bewildered ;  she  did  not 
know  what  answer  to  make  him,  so  the  lovely  crimson 
lips  were  dumb. 

A  strange  pleasure  thrilled  through  her  heart,  how 
ever,  at  the  thought  that  he  had  said  he  should  never 
forget  her. 

"  Your  uncle  sent  me  in  search  of  you,  Miss  Rose/* 
he  said.  "  May  I  walk  back  to  the  light-house  with 
you?" 

Rose  was  a  little  delighted,  a  little  bewildered,  and 
just  a  little  frightened,  but  she  shyly  consented,  and 
together  they  walked  over  the  white  sands. 

Osric  Lawrence  was  a  clever  man,  quick  of  eompre- 
hension;  he  had  the  great  gift  of  understanding  char 
acter,  and  of  adapting  himself  to  the  people  into  whose 
midst  he  was  thrown. 

Although  he  had  exchanged  but  a  few  words  with 
pretty  Rose  Hall,  he  understood  her  restless  nature 
perfectly.  She  was  like  a  beautiful  bird-of-Paradise 
sadly  out  of  place  in  this  cage  of  a  rocky  isolated 
island. 

He  watched  with  4ceen  admiration  the  blushes  that 
mantled  that  fair  young  face  as  they  walked  along. 

"  How  love  could  light  up  those  dark  dreamy  eyes/' 
he  thought,  "  and  transfigure  that  beautiful  face." 

He  could  see  that  she  was  not  more  than  sixteen, 
young  and  artless.  The  world,  with  its  follies,  its  gay- 
eties,  its  pleasures,  its  love,  its  passions,  its  tragedies 
was  all  unknown  toHfier. 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  17 

Osric  Lawrence  had  offered  a  handsome  fee  to  be 
rowed  over  to  Rocky  Point  that  morning.  Now  he 
changed  his  mind  quite  suddenly. 

Could  he  stay  at  the  island  home  a  week,  he  was 
quite  sure  that  the  pure  air  would  be  beneficial  to  him, 
and-  the  condition  of  his  sprained  arm  greatly  im 
proved. 

Abel  Martin  never  once  dreamed  in  his  blind  sim- 
i  plicity,  what  the  attraction  was  that  caused  the  hand- 
j  some,  debonair  young  stranger  to  linger  at  the  old 
light-house. 

"  Of  course  we  have  no  accommodations  like  you  are 
accustomed  to,  but  to  such  as  it  is  your'e  welcome," 
responded  Abel,  with  a  hearty  whiff  of  smoke  from  his 
stumpy  clay  pipe. 

So  lie  stayed. 

The  week  that  followed  was  as  sweet  to  Rose  as  the 
page  of  a  romance.  They  wandered  together  over  the 
white  sands  when  tl^e  first  rosy  flush  of  the  early  sun 
light  crimsoned  the*  golden  waves  like  a  sea  of  fire, 
and  stood  together  looking  out  over  the  water  when 
the  white  moon  and  the  glowing  stars  changed  the 
rippling  waves  to  a  silvery  sheen.  Ah,  how  much  may 
happen  in  a  week ! 

At  first  Osric  Lawrence  admired  the  piquant,  beau 
tiful  face  of  Rose  Hall.  She  was  different  from  other 
?  girls  in  being  simply  indifferent  to  his  homage.  Then 
he  learned  to  love  her  with  a  force  and  intensity  that 
frightened  even  himself.  Love  came  to  Osric  Law 
rence  like  a  fierce  tornado  that  swayed  his  heart  and 
soul  as  the  whirlwind  sways  the  trees.  Older  hearts 
are  more  careful  in  loving — to  youth  love's  sweet 
dreams  come  quickly. 


18  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

• 

There  was  a  certain  reason — ay,  and  a  grave  one — 
why  he  should  never  have  allowed  himself  to  love 
Rose  Hall. 

He  told  himself,  with  impetuous  recklessness,  that 
— cost  what  it  would,  let  his  life  be  what  it  might 
in  the  past,  let  right  or  wrong  rule,  let  the  price  be 
high  or  low — he  would  win  her.  There  was  nothing  he 
would  not  have  done  to  succeed.  He  would  have 
hesitated  at  no  crime,  stopped  at  no  wrong.  With 
such  a  love  there  was  little  chance  of  escape  for  its 
object. 

It  was  Osric's  last  day  on  the  island.  He  was  sit 
ting  with  Rose  on  the  moss-grown  cliff. 

"  Shall  you  miss  me  when  I  am  gone,  Rose  ? "  he 
asked.  "  I  am  going  away  to-night,  and  the  keenest 
pain  I  have  ever  known  will  be — leaving  you." 

The  startled  expression  in  the  dark  eyes  raised  to 
his  answered  him  as  no  words  could  have  done.  A  * 
great  wave  of  sorrow  and  desolation  swept  over  her. 
After  to-night  it  would  be  all  over — this  beautiful 
friendship,  these  happy  hours,  these  sunny  days  that 
?he  had  thought  would  have  no  ending.  Her  face 
grew  white  and  her  hands  trembled.  What  would  life 
be  to  her  after  he  went  away? 

"Oh,  Rose,"  he  cried,  " I  wish  that  I  dare  tell  you 
something  else !  I  feel  like  a  man  whose  life  is  at 
stake ;  I  long,  yet  fear,  to  speak.  Have  you  read  the 
beautiful  story  of  'Romeo  and  Juliet'?  how  love  came 
to  Romeo,  like  the  swift  dart  of  an  arrow,  the  first 
moment  he  looked  upon  the  fair  face  of  Juliet?  He 
loved  her  as  truly  then  as  though  he  had  known  her 
for  long  years." 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  19 

.  "  Yes,  I  have  read  the  story,"  said  Rose ;  and,  look 
ing-  into  her  face,  he  took  heart  of  grace. 

"Oh,  Rose,  promise  me  not  to  be  angry  with  me  for 
saying  that  which  I  am  going  to  say  to.  you !  I  ought 
not  to  say  it ;  1  know  that.  I  ought  to  go  away  in 
silence,  and  let  my  secret  eat  my  heart  away.  I  know 
that  is  what  I  ought  to  do,  but  I  can  not.  I  must 
speak ;  the  torture  of  suspense  is  killing  me.  It  is 
this :  What  happened  to  Romeo  has  happened  to  me ; 
my  heart  left  me  and  went  out  to  you.  Oh,  Rose,  are 
you  very  angry?  " 

The  girl's  beautiful  dark  face  flushed. 

Rose  looked  up  at  him  with  dark,  wondering  eyes. 
Still  she  was  not  angry,  and  that  was  one  point  gained. 
If  she  would  only  listen  to  his  pleadings,  to  all  the 
love  stories  he  knew  so  well  how  to  tell,  he  felt  sure 
that  he  would  win  her. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  this,  Rose — I  love  you/' 

For  a  moment  a  dead  silence  fell  between  them.  She 
did  not-  know  what  to  answer ;  she  was  pleased,  de 
lighted,  flattered,  but  half  afraid. 

To  have  won  a  heart  so  completely,  so  entirely,  so 
quickly  was  a  grand  thing  to  have  done.  It  was  like 
the  romantic  stories  she  had  read  of.  She  felt  like  a 
queen  who  has  made  a  conquest;  but  it  was  at  the 
same  time  very  embarrassing.  She  did  not  in  the  least 
know  what  to  do  or  say. 

It  was  delightful,  however,  to  have  this  little  change 
in  the  monotonous  life  of  which  her  gay,  restless  spirit 
had  grown  so  weary. 

"  Oh,  Rose,  won't  you  tell  me  that  my  love  has 
not  been  in  vain?  Tell  me,  do  you  care  for  me?  Does 


20  I'RKTTY     ROSR    HALL. 

my  going  bring  one  pang  to  your  heart?  Shall  you 
miss  me?  " 

"  Yes,"  responded  Rose,  slowly ;  "  you  know  that 
I  shall  miss  you,  Mr.  Lawrence." 

His  going  was  like  the  setting  of  the  sun  and  the 
gloom  of  night  to  the  flower's. 

He  caught  the  little  hands  in  a  very  transport  of 
joy. 

"'  I  believe  you  do  care  for  me,  Rose,"  he  cried.  "  I 
am  going  to  put  it  to  the  test.  Grant  me  one  favor, 
let  me  see  you  again." 

"  You  can  come  to  the  island  when  you  like,"  fal 
tered  Rose.  "  Uncle  and  I  shall  always  be  pleased  to 
see  you." 

"  It  is  only  you  whom  I  wish  to  see,  Rose,"  he  an 
swered,  impatiently;  "  you  and  you  alone.  I  could  not 
talk  to  you  before  your  uncle.  Meet  me  to-morrow 
night  here,  where  we  are  parting  now,  just  for  one 
brief  half  hour,  Rose,  when  the  moon  is  shining.  Only 
once  and  for  the  last  time,  perhaps,"  he  pleaded.  "  I 
wonder  how  desperate  the  prayer  of  a  dying  man  is. 
I  should  like  to  make  mine  the  same.  It  is  life  or 
death  to  me.  Will  you  come,  Rose?  Let  me  see  you 
for  just  one  half  hour." 

Her  better  sense  said  "No";  but  he  looked  so  hand 
some,  so  agitated,  it  was  all  so  novel,  so  piquant  and 
romantic. 

"  Perhaps  I  may  come,"  she  answered,  timidly. 

"  Ah,  Rose,  you  will  come,"  he  cried. 

The  next  moment  he  had  bent  his  handsome  head 
and  kissed  her,  and  for  long  hours  after  he  had  gone 
that  passionate  kiss — the  first  that  had  ever  been 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL,  21 

*i 

pressed  upon  them  by  a  lover — burned  her  scarlet 
lips. 

That  night  when  she  crept  up  to  her  lonely  room 
in  the  light-house  she  read  the  story  of  Romeo  and 
Juliet  again.  Yes,  her  romance  had  been  very  much 
like  Juliet's. 

It  was  sweet  to  be  wooed  in  such  a  fashion ;  it  was 
very  pleasant  to  listen  to' tender  caressing  words  from 
a  lover's  lips ;  but  whether  she  loved  him  with  a  love 
as  deep  as  Juliet's  for  the  handsome  Romeo  she  could 
hardly  tell. 

The  old  light-house  keeper  was  smoking  his  pipe 
on  the  doorstep  when  Rose  emerged  from  the  house 
the  next  evening,  her  straw  hat  hanging  from  her  arm 
by  its  crimson  ribbons. 

"Where  are  you  going,  lass?"  he  asked,  blowing 
the  wreaths  of  blue  smoke  away  from  his  bronzed  face. 

"  Only  a  little  way  out  on  the  beach,  Uncle  Abel," 
she  answered  a  little  confusedly,,  her  bright  eyes  droop 
ing  beneath  his  gaze. 

He  watched  the  graceful  figure  flit  away  in  the 
moonlight. 

"  Poor  lass.  She's  lonesome  without  Lillian,"  he 
mused. 

With  swift  feet  she  sped  onward,  and  as  she  neared 
the  rocks  she  saw  that  her  lover  was  already  there,  im 
patiently  pacing  up  and  down  the  white  beach. 

At  that  moment  he  turned  and  saw  her. 


CHAPTER  III. 

"  Rose !  "  he  cried,  starting  forward  in  joyful  eager 
ness  and  clasping  her  hands ;  "  how  good  of  you  to 
come,  my  darling.  I  knew  that  I  was  asking  the  great- 


22  PRETTY    ROSE   HALL. 

est  possible  favor.  T  hardly  dared  hoped  that  you 
would  grant  it." 

"  I  can  stay  but  a  few  minutes,"  said  Rose;  "  Uncle 
Abel  will  miss  me  shortly,  Mr.  Lawrence.' 

"  Not  Mr.  Lawrence — I  am  Osric,  always  Osric  to 
you  hereafter,  my  sweet  Rose,  and  you  must  call  me 
by  that  name  and  no  other !  " 

Together  they  sat  down  by  the  rippling  silver  sea, 
and  to  Rose's  great  surprise  she  saw  tears  shining  in 
his  eyes,  and  the  light  of  the  stars  showed  that  his  face 
was  pale  and  haggard. 

"  I  have  so  much  to  say  to  you,  my  darling,  that  I 
hardly  know  how  to  begin."  he  said  at  length.  **  On 
your  '  yes  '  or  '  no  '  to-night  depends  my  whole  future 
My  life,  my  well  or  evil-doing,  all  depend  upon  what 
you  shall  say  to  me  to-night !  " 

She  looked  anxiously  at  him. 

'  What  do  you  mean,  Osric,  I  do  not  understand?" 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  she  guessed  rather 
than  knew  that  some  great  struggle  was  going  on  in 
his  mind. 

"  Rose!  ''  he  cried,  <r  I  am  obliged  to  leave  here  sud 
denly;  I  ought  to  be  far  away  from  here  now!  but, 
oh,  my  love,  it  breaks  my  heart  to  leave  you — I  can 
not !  ' 

"  But  you  will  come  back  soon  ?  "  said  Rose  faintly. 

A  curious  whiteness  overspread  his  handsome,  hag 
gard  face;  even  his  lips  trembled  beneath  the  golden 
mustache.  He  was  looking  at  her  with  passionate 
wishful  eyes. 

"  Rose,"  he  said  in  a  low,  hoarse  voice,  "  I  could  go 
away  happy  if  my  heart  was  at  rest.  You  and  you 
alone  can  set  it  at  rest,  dear;  I  would  give  my  life 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL.  23 

almost  if  you  would  grant  the  prayer  I  am  about  to 
make.  You  must  not  be  startled  when  I  tell  you  what 
it  is  !  " 

Rose  laughed  a  gay  rippling  laugh  to  see  how  earn 
est  he  was,  but  the  smile  died  from  her  lips  at  the 
white,  pained  face  he  turned  toward  her,  she  was  awed 
by  his  emotion. 

He  drew  nearer  to  her,  pausing  as  though  to  collect 
his  strength  for  a  desperate  effort. 

"  Rose/'  he  said,  "  marry  me;  when  I  go  from  here 
let  me  feel  sure  that  you  are  bound  to  me  so  firmly  no 
one  could  take  you  from  me ;  let  me  leave  my  wife  be 
hind  me.  It  is  my  only  salvation — my  only  hope  " 

But  Rose  drew  back  white  and  frightened. 

"  Marry  you !  "  she  repeated,  with  colorless  cheeks ; 
"  oh,  I  can  not,  that  would  be  quite  impossible ;  I  am 
frightened  at  the  very  word,"  and  she  wrung  her  little 
hands  together. 

"Rose!"  he  cried.  "Mine  is  the  prayer  of  a  des 
perate  man ;  let  your  own  heart  plead  far  me.  Your 
eyes  have  told  me  you  love  me,  even  though  your  lips 
refused  to  utter  the  words.  Marry  me,  my  darling, 
to-night,  this  very  hour.  Then  I  can  go  away  content, 
knowing  that  you  are  mine ;  I  would  die  sooner  than 
lose  you ;  and  a  deadly  fear  presses  strong  at  my  heart 
that  unless  I  bound  you  to  me  by  the  strongest  of  ties 
you  would  be  lost  to  me." 

"  Oh,  I  can  not,  I  can  not!  "  said  the  girl.  "  Osric, 
you  must  not  ask  me ;  Lillian  and  Aunt  Hulda  would 
be  so  grieved." 

But  love  has  an  eloquence  all  its  own.  He  was  young 
and  handsome,  he  was  passionately  in  love  with  her, 
there  was  no  argument  possible  that  he  did  not  use. 


24  PKETTY     KP.SK    J1ALL. 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL.  25 

and  beautiful  Rose  Hall  went  on  to  her  doom  with 
flushed  face  and  beating  heart. 

There  was  a  little  stone  church,  covered  with  ivy, 
in  the  very  heart  of  the  village  of  Wilton,  presided 
over  by  an  aged  white-haired  rector;  thither  they  bent 
their  steps. 

The  old  gray  church  with  its  dim  shadows,  seemed 
to  fill  the  girl  with  terror,  as  she  knelt  down  before 
the  altar  with  Osric.  The  wind  seemed  to  sob  out 
side,  and  the  leaves  of  the  trees  that  tossed  against 
the  window  pane  seemed  a  lost  spirit  in  distress.  To 
Rose  it  seemed  a  strange,  wierd  dream. 

The  minister  looked  in  wonder  at  the  pair  before 
him.  The  girl  so  young  and  so  exquisitely  lovely,  the 
man  so  handsome,  but  ill  at  ease. 

It  was  not  until  after  she  had  uttered  the  words 
that  bound  her  for  life  to  him  who  stood  beside 
her,  that  she  realized  what  she  had  done.  She  never 
knew  how,  or  why,  but  when  the  wedding-ring  was 
placed  on  her  finger,  and  she  realized  that  she  was 
Osric's  bride,  a  deadly  chill  came  over  her. 

"  Your  wedding-ring  is  one  of  the  costliest  dia 
monds  money  could  buy,  love,"  she  heard  him  whis 
per.  *''  but  when  you  reach  the  island,  you  must  take 
it  from  your  finger  and  wear  it  attached  to  your  neck 
by  a  golden  chain;  no  human  eye  must  rest  upon  it, 
remember  my  words,  Rose,  no  eye  save  yours  must 
see  it." 

Together  they  went  into  the  vestry  and  signed  their 
names  in  the  register.  It  was  strange  that  at  that 
moment  Rose  should  remember  that  it  was  the  eighty- 
seventh  page  on  which  they  had  written. 

An  hour  later  they  had  reached  the  island  again, 


26  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

and  Osric  was  clasping  her  in  his  arms  bidding  her 
farewell  with  burning  tears  in  his  eyes  that  fell  upon 
her  face. 

"  Oh,  Rose,"  he  cried,  "  teach  me  to  say  good-bye. 
If  I  stay  much  longer  I  will  not  be  able  to  tear  myself 
away.  You  shall  never  regret  what  you  have  done 
to-night,  Rose." 

He  took  one  of  the  roses  she  wore  in  her  dark  curls, 
kissed  it  tenderly,  placing  it  carefully  in  his  breast 
pocket. 

"  Now  I  shall  go  away  without  the  haunting  dread 
that  I  might  lose  you.  Promise  me  that  you  will  re 
main  here  on  this  island  until  I  shall  come  to  claim 
you.  Promise  that  you  will  watch  and  wait  for  me 
on  this  spot  where  we  part,"  he  whispered. 

"  I  promise/'  she  said,  slowly.  "  I  shall  be  here 
unless  the  sea-gulls  carry  me  away,  and  there  is  no 
danger  of  that." 

"  Oh,  Rose,  my  lovely  Rose !  how  can  I  leave  you !  " 
he  cried.  "  I  must  go.  yet  my  living,  beating  heart  is 
here  with  you." 

He  took  her  in  his  arms,  his  face  white  with  agi 
tation,  kissing  her  beautiful  white  hands,  her  lovely 
face  and  dark,  curling  hair,  murmuring  that  death 
itself  were  easier  to  bear  than  part  with  her.  It  was 
breaking  his  heart. 

And  in  that  moment,  while  his  kisses  were  upon 
her  lips,  the  horrible  thought  swept  over  her  heart 
that  she  did  not  love  him.  With  the  changing  of 
the  hour  she  had  repented  bitterly  that  she  had  been 
persuaded  into  marrying  him. 

Young  as  she  was  she  realized  dimly  that  it  was  a 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  27 

strange,  foolish,  mad  marriage,  yet  it  was  legal  and 
binding;  she  was  Osric's  bride. 

As  she  walked  back  to  the  old  light-house  she  would 
have  thought  it  all  a  dream  had  it  not  been  for  the 
sparkling  diamond  that  glowed  upon  her  finger. 

Abel  Martin  still  sat  on  the  doorstep  smoking  his 
pipe  in  the  moonlight. 

"  You've  been  out  on  the  beach  a  long  time,  lass," 
he  said.  "I  was 'just  going  out  in  search  of  ye.  I 
thought  mayhap  you  had  fallen  asleep  and  some  great 
wave  had  carried  you  out  to  sea." 

He  wondered  why  beautiful  Rose  threw  her  white 
arms  round  his  neck,  begging  with  tears  in  her  lovely 
eyes  that  he  would  pardon  her  for  what  she  had  done. 

"  I  reckon  I'll  have  to,  providin'  you  don't  stay  out 
so  late  again,  lass,"  he  answered. 

And  beautiful,  guilty  Rose  crept  up  to  her  room 
with  the  story  of  her  romantic  secret  marriage  a  heavy 
weight  in  her  heart. 

Two  days  later,  Hulda  Martin  and  Lillian  returned. 
They  had  expected  that  willful  Rose  would  meet  them 
with  an  outburst  of  passion  and  angry  resentment  for 
being1  left  behind. 

Lillian  was  amazed  when  her  lovely  sister  threw 
herself  in  her  arms  weeping  as  if  her  heart  would 
break  refusing  to  be  comforted.  It  was  so  unlike 
beautiful,  daring,  willful  Rose. 

She  would  not  tell  them  what  had  happened,  she 
decided ,  at  least,  not  just  yet. 

"  Poor  Rose,"  cried  Lillian.  "  Ten  days  of  such 
wretched  loneliness  has  broken  my  poor  darling's 
tender  heart." 

Ah,  had  they  but  known  that  those  days  were  the 


28  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

sweetest,  yet  bore  the  most  accursed  fruit,  that  Rose 
Hall  was  ever  to  know. 

Then  came  out  the  starling  revelation  as  to  what 
took  Hulda  Martin  to  Rocky  Point  on  that  eventful 
day  she  had  received  the  mysterious  letter. 

"  It  is  a  pitiful  romance,  Rose,"  cried  Hulda  Martin, 
sobbingly.  "  Your  mother  was  my  sister.  She  was 
young  and  fair,  like  Lillian,  when  a  handsome  youth 
wooed  and  won  her.  She  married  Robert  Hall,  your 
father,  and  I  was  well  pleased ;  but,  oh.  Rose,  I  could 
never  picture  to  you  the  anger  of  Robert's  lady 
mother.  She  cut  him  off  without  a  dollar  though  she 
was  rolling  in  gold,  and  she  never  forgave  her  son  for- 
marrying  beneath  him  as  she  called  it,  never. 

"  And  when  Robert  and  his  wife  both  died,  leaving 
you  and  Lillian,  and  I  appealed  to  her  for  aid,  she 
wrote  me  curtly  that  my  sister's  children  might  beg  or 
starve  for  all  she  cared.  Imagine  my  indignation 
when  I  received  a  command  from  her  after  all  these 
years  to  bring  you  both  to  Rocky  Point,  as  she  would 
be  there  a  week.  If  she  liked  your  appearance  she 
would  take  you  both  to  her  grand  home ;  but  the  con 
dition  was  that  you  were  never  to  breathe  your  young 
mother's  name  within  her  walls — you  were  to  cut 
loose  from  all  that  yon  had  loved  and  known  in  the 
past. 

"  Oh,  Rose,  it  was  a  great  struggle ;  I  took  Lillian 
to  see  the  proud,  cold  woman ;  '  I  love  my  mother's 
memory!'  cried  Lillian,  'you  helped  to  break  her 
heart:  I  would  sooner  die  than  go  with  you,  though 
your  home  be  a  palace.' 

: '  So  be  it !  '  cried  the  grim  woman ;  '  you  have  your 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  20 

mother's  face,  you  do  not  please  me  any  how :  yet 
stay:  why  did  not  your  sister  come  with  you?J 

"  '  ~My  sister  is  loyal  to  our  mother's  memory,  she 
would  think  and  act  as  I  do,'  answered  Lillian 
proudly.'' 

"  Did  I  not  answer  as  you  would  have  had  me, 
Rose?  "  asked  her  sister  anxiously. 

"  Yes,"  responded  Rose ;  "  you  and  I  will  live  and 
die  here  on  this  island  home  together,  with  Aunt 
Hulda  and  Uncle  Abel,  who  have  been  so  kind  to  us, 
before  we  would  enter  that  marble  mansion  whose 
doors  were  closed  against  our  poor  young  mother! " 

'*  Rightly  spoken !  "  cried  the  old  light-house  keeper 
heartily;  they  had  feared  restless  Rose  would  be  daz 
zled  by  wealth,  they  loved  her  all  the  better  because 
she  was  loyal. 

"  How  did  you  like  your  visit  to  Rocky  Point,  Lilly, 
dear?"  asked  Rose,  when  the  two  sisters  found  them 
selves  alone  that  sunny  afternoon. 

Lilian's  face  clouded. 

"  A  pitiful  event  happened  at  the  wharf  just  as  we 
were  coming  away  which  quite  saddened  me.  It  wras 
the  arrest  of  a  young  and  handsome  man ;  I  had  read 
an  account  of  what  he  had  done  in  the  paper  the  day 
before'  The  paper  contained  his  picture :  I  brought 
it  home  to  show  it  to  you :  he  wa?  so  young  and  hand 
some  to  be  rhanred  with  so  grave  a  crime;  taking 
money  and  d*'om^nds  from  a  jewelry  firm  with  whom 
he  was  connected ! 

"  Looking  at  his  face  one  could  hardly  have  believed 
him  guilty.  It  seems  that  he  made  his  escape  on  an 
outgoing  steamer,  which  sunk  on  the  night  of  the  ter 
rible  storm  ;  he  was  among  the  missing,  and  they  be- 


30  PRKTTY     R<  >SE     tJUALi  . 

lieved  him  to  be  drowned,  when  suddenly  he  made  his 
appearance  at  Rocky  Point. 

"  Every  one  said  he  should  have  made  good  his  es 
cape  while  every  one  believed  him  dead;  vWiy  he 
should  have  remained  around  here  is  a. mystery;  he 
must  have  been  mad.  He  could  have  escaped  so  easily 
days  ago. 

"  Tears  sprang  to  my  eyes  when  I  heard  him  plead 
with  them  to  let  him  go  free  and  he  wrould  give  back 
every  dollar  and  every  diamond  save  one  that  was  lost ; 
but  he  would  make  the  loss  of  that  one  good ;  oh,  how 
he  prayed  and  pleaded  on  his  knees  with  them.  But 
they  took  him  away  in  handcuffs ;  and  my  heart  bled 
for  him,  he  was  so  young,  so  handsome!  There  was 
one  thing  he  did  that  touched  every  one :  he  took  a 
faded  red  rose  from  his  breast  pocket,  murmuring' 
'Oh,  rose/  what  else  he  said  one  could  not  distin 
guish." 

"  Yon  have  forgotten  to  show  me  his  picture  and 
tell  me  his  name,'"'  said  Rose;  and  she  was  startled  at 
her  own  voice. 

A  moment  later  Lillian  had  brought  the  paper  and 
laid  it  in  her  lap.  One  glance  at  that  pictured  face  so 
handsome  and  debonair  in  its  fair  beauty,  and  the  light 
seemed  to  "fade  from  the  sun  and  the  world  to  stand 
still ;  the  heart  of  her  bosom  seemed  to  break  with 
one  quick  throb ;  her  'face  grew  ghastly  as  death.  It 
was  a  wonder  the  terrible  blow  did  not  strike  her  dead 
then  and  there ;  the  name  beneath  the  pictured  face 
read — Osric  Lawrence. 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL.  31 

CHAPTER  IV. 

No  cry  came  from  Rose's  white  lips  as  she  read  the 
fatal  paragraph  in  the  paper  Lillian  had  brought  her. 

The  lovely  face  grew  white  as  marble.  With  a  great 
gasping  moan  she  threw  up  her  hands  and  fell  face 
downward  upon  the  white  sand,  but  the  great  boon  of 
unconsciousness  did  not  come  to  her.  Heaven  help 
her!  This  was  the  man  she  had  secretly  married. 

In  a  moment  Lillian  was  beside  her  with  a  frightened 
dismayed  face. 

"Oh,  Rose/'  she  cried,  distressedly,  "if  I  had  known 
that  the  story  of  handsome  Osric  Lawrence  would 
affect  you  so,  I  should  never  have  brought  the  paper 
home  to  you." 

Lillian  cried  out  in  alarm  at  the  ghastly  face  that  was 
turned  toward  her. 

"We  will  forget  it,  Rose/'  she  cried.  "The  story  of  a 
criminal  has  but  little  interest  for  us." 

"Heaven  help  me/'  wailed  Rose,  below  her  breath, 
"if  she  but  knew  what  he  is  to  me.  Oh,  fatal  hour  when 
first  we  met.  Oh,  fatal  hour  when  he  persuaded  me 
into  linking  my  fate  with  his!" 

Now  she  knew  why  he  had  been  obliged  to  leave  so 
suddenly.  He  dared  not  linger.  And  to  think  that  she 
was  this  man's  bride.  That  she  had  stood  at  the  altar 
with  him  promising  to  love  and  obey  him.  Oh,  cruel 
fate  !  Oh,  cruel  destiny ! 

Now  she  knew  why  such  a  chill  had  oppressed  her 
when  he  had  taken  her  in  his  arms,  calling  her  his  own 
beautiful  Rose,  how  she  had  shrunk  from  his  caresses. 

And  this  man,  fleeing  from  justice,  was  the  man  she 
had  married.  A  hot  flush  of  indignation  and  bitter  de 
spair  burned  her  face.  Surely  the  worst  crime  he  had 


»'_'  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

committed  was  deceiving  and  duping  her  into  linking 
her  life  with  his. 

Oh,  if  she  could  blot  out  the  events  of  the  last  week ! 
What  would  she  do  if  Osric  Lawrence  were  set  free 
and  came  to  claim  her?  She  could  imagine  her  Aunt 
Hulda's  dismay,  and  Lillian's  horror  if  the  story  of  her 
marriage  were  made  known  to  them. 

"I  should  kill  myself,"  she  moaned,  with  clinched 
hands.  "I  could  not  face  the  exposure  and  the  shainc." 

Oh,  how  glad  she  was  that  she  had  not  told  them  of 
the  young  husband  who  was  as  handsome  as  a  prince 
who  was  coming  to  claim  her.  Now  the  dread  truth 
should  never  be  revealed. 

What  if  her  uncle  should  tell  them  when  they  spoke 
of  this  matter,  read  the  paper  to  him,  showing  him  the 
pictured  face  which  they  assuredly  would  do,  what  if 
her  uncle  should  cry  out :  "This  is  the  same  man  Rose 
saved  from  the  hungry  sea  on  the  night  of  the  wreck; 
he  stayed  here  at  the  light-house  with  us  a  week.'' 

If  they  should  question  her  about  it  she  would  go 
mad. 

Lillian  was  speaking  to  her,  but  she  had  not  even 
heard  her  voice.  Gently  Lillian  took  the  paper  from 
her  clinched,  cold  hand  and -threw  it  out  into  the  sea. 

"  We  will  neither  think  nor  talk  about  this  cruel 
story,  Rose,"  she  said,  "It  has  made  you  quite  ill/' 

Together  the  sisters  walked  slowly  over  the  white 
sands  to  the  light-house.  Rose's,  heart  almost  stood 
still  as  she  heard  her  uncle  "relating  the  story  of  that 
night  of  the  storm  and  of  her  great  bravery ;  but  he 
quite,  forgot  to  mention  the  name  of  the  man  she  had 
rescued,  or  that  he  was  young  and  handsome,  and  had 
lingered  at  the  island  a  week. 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL.  6-T 

That  night,  while  Lillian  lay  sleeping.  Rose  crept 
from  the  white  bed  which  they  shared  together  and 
stood  at  the  window  looking  out  over  the  moonlit  sea. 

''Oh,  if  I  could  but  die!"  sobbed  the  girl. 

Cautiously  she  had  opened  the  window  and  tossed 
the  glittering  diamond  far  out  into  the  waves.  Since 
early  morning  it  had  seemed  to  burn  and  scorch  the 
white  bosom  upon  which  it  lay. 

Should  she  follow  the  glittering  ring  down  into  the 
sea?  Osric  Lawrence  could  not  claim  her  then.  She 
realized  with  a  terrible  shock  that  when  he  came  for 
her  she  would  be  obliged  to  go  with  him ;  he  could 
compel  her  to  go  with  him,  and  she  would  sooner  die. 

Suddenly  she  remembered  his  constant  foreboding 
that  he  should  lose  her.  What  if  it  should  be  verified 
in  some  strange  way,  after  all? 

If  she  could  but  escape  him,  go  away  out  of  his  life 
and  never  see  him  again !  The  idea  came  to  her  with 
the  force  of  an  electric  shock.  If  she  could,  and  she 
raised  her  eyes  to  Heaven  with  a  great,  tearless  sob. 

She  remembered  that  he  had  said  he  would  die  or  go 
mad  if  he  were  to  lose  her :  and  she,  Heaven  help  her, 
she  would  die  or  go  mad  if  he  were  to  find  her. 

Oh,  if  she  had  but  dared  make  a  confidante  of  Lillian ! 
Would  Lillian  help  her  keep  her  horrible  secret  or 
would  she  turn  from  her  in  horror  at  what  she  had 
done? 

Oh,  if  she  could  but  fly  from  him,  hide  where  he 
could  never  find  her  though  he  searched  the  world  over 
for  her! 

"Could  it  really  be  so  very  wrong?''  she  asked  her 
self,  "^iust  she  suffer  all  her  life  for  a  few  words  so 
thoughtlessly  spoken  in  the  old  church? — words  she 


$4  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

hardly  understood  the  meaning  of.  She  would  never 
have  been  duped  into  promising  to  reverence,  honor, 
and  obey  this  man  if  she  had  known  that  he  was  a 
criminal  fleeing  from  justice." 

There  were  moments  when  her  heart  almost  softened 
toward  handsome  Osric  Lawrence,  when  she  remem 
bered  how  madly  he  loved  her,  that  it  was  for  the  sake 
of  lingering  beside  her  he  had  stayed  when  he  should 
have  been  far  away. 

But  the  next  moment  anger  and  pride  rose  up  in 
fierce  resentment  in  her  heart  when  she  remembered 
that  in  the  cruel  selfishness  of  his  love  he  had  not 
spared  her — coupled  her  name  to  one  that  was  black 
ened  with  disgrace  and  dishonor. 

Oh,  if  she  could  but  fly  from  him,  where  he  could 
never  find  her. 

Suddenly  a  great  cry  broke  from  her  lips.  Ah,  why 
had  she  never  thought  of  it  before.  She  could  go  to 
the  cold,  haughty  woman  whose  aid  Lillian  had  so 
proudly  declined.  In  that  dazzling  mansion  home  in 
the  far-off  city  he  would  never  think  of  looking  for  the 
girl  he  had  left  on  the  lonely  isolated  island  with  a  mar 
riage-ring  on  her  finger. 

The  thought  seemed  to  come  to  her  like  an  inspira 
tion.  The  conditions  were  cruel  enough  if  she  went  to 
the  cold,  proud  woman  who  hated  her  poor  young 
mother's  very  memory,  she  must  give  up  her  Aunt 
Hulda,  her  Uncle  Abel  and  Lillian.  She  must  never 
speak  their  names,  never  look  upon  their  faces,  never 
write  or  receive  a  line^from  them.  Yet  it  were  better  a 
thousand  times  to  do 'this  than  to  remain  here  waiting 
in  horrible  dread,  each  day  and  hour  praying  that  she 
might  die  ere  Osric  Lawrence  came  to  claim  her.  Let 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  35 

them  think  her  treacherous  if  they  would;  they  did  not 
know  what  influenced  her,  oh,  they  did  not  know  ! 

There  was  great  consternation  at  the  light-house  the 
next  morning  when  Rose  made  known  her  decision, 
that  she  would  accept  the  home  her  grandmother  of 
fered  her. 

With  a  bitter  cry  Hulda  Martin  turned  to  her.  She 
did  not  dare  look  into  the  blue  eyes  of  Lillian,  lest  her 
courage  should  forsake  her. 

"Speak  the  words  again,  that  I  may  know  that  I  have 
heard  aright!"  she  cried.  "Let  me  realize  that  you, 
for  whom  I  have  almost  given  my  life — you  whom  I 
have  watched  and  tended  with  such  care  from  the  mo 
ment  your  dying  mother  put  you  into  my  arms — you 
are  going  to  leave  me  for  a  stranger  who  hates  our 
name  and  race — you  are  going  to  a  home  where  even 
your  mother's  name  dare  not  be  spoken — willing  to  go 
away  from  those  who  have  loved  you  so !" 

Hulda's  grief  was  pitiful  to  behold.  Lillian's  arms 
crept  round  the  neck  of  the  woman  who  had  been 
more  than  a  mother  to  them. 

"I  will  never  leave  you,  Aunt  Hulda/'  she  whispered. 
"If  Rose  goes  she  will  soon  come  back  to  us  again/' 

It  was  a  sharp  sword  in  Hulda  Martin's  heart  to  see 
the  one  she  had  loved  the  least  cling  to  her  in  this 
hour,  and  the  one  she  had  loved  best  turn  from  her. 

In  vain  Lillian  pleaded  with  Rose ;  she  was  not  to 
he  moved  from  her  purpose.  Abel  Martin  bowed  his 
head  on  his  breast,  and  the  mute  reproach  was  more 
touching-  than  words  would  have  been. 

Hulda  Martin  raised  Lillian  from  her  knees  where 
she  had  been  pleading  with  Rose. 

"Say  no  more,"  she  cried.    "This  stranger's  gold  has 


,36  rkHTTY     ROSE    HALL. 

turned  her  heart  against  us.  She  is  going  to  the  cold, 
haughty  woman  who  broke  the  h?art  of  her  mother  be 
fore  her;  let  her  have  a.  care  lest  she  will  break  hers." 

"We  must  part  sooner  or  later  in  life,"  said  Rose, 
with  white,  stiff  lips;  "it  is  best  that  I  should  go  now." 

"Listen  to  me,"  cried  Hulda  Martin.  "If  you  leave 
us  now,  Rose,  you  shall  never — so  help  me  Heaven — 
look  upon  my  face  again.  You  make  your  choice,  and 
you  must  abide  by  it — nothing  can  ever  alter  it  in  this 
world !  We  shall  all  leave  the  light-house  and  go  so  far 
away  that  you  shall  never  see  us  more!  I  predict  that, 
in  the  life  of  luxury  and  gayety  you  are  going  to,  the 
time  will  come  when  you  will  need  a  true  friend — when 
you  will  look  back  with  unutterable  regret  to  this  hour, 
when  you  cast  off  the  love  of  uncle,  aunt  and  loving 
sister  for  the  trappings^of  wealth.  The  time  will  come 
when  the  anger  of  Heaven  will  fall  upon  you  for  it!" 

"Let  them  think  that  of  me,  if  they  will."  Rose  told 
herself.  "  Better  that,  than  they  should  know  the  true 
reason.  Oh,  if  Lillian  would  but  come  with  me!"  said 
she,  holding  out  her  hands  in  pitiful  entreaty. 

"I  shall  never  cross  the  threshold  of  the  home  that 
"would  not  receive  my  poor  dead  mother,"  said  Lillian, 
with  dignity. 

Without  another  word  Rose  turned  and  fled  from  the 
light-house,  the  bitter  thought  rankling  in  her  heart. 

Better  this  than  that  Osric  Lawrence  should  return, 
and,  finding  her  there,  compel  her  to  go  with  him. 
What  would  death  be  compared  to  that? 


CHAPTER  V. 

It  was  a  warm  afternoon  in  June ;  the  sun  shone 
brightly  upon  the  gay  throngs  that  promenaded  the 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  37 

thoroughfares  of  New  York,  upon  the  stately  brown- 
stone  mansions  of  the  aristocratic  avenues,  and  upon 
the  face  of  a  young  girl  eagerly  scanning  the  numbers 
of  the  houses  she  passed,  stopping  hesitatingly  at 
length,  before  the  most  imposing  structure  upon  the 
avenue. 

The  filmy  lace  curtains  with  their  background  of  am 
ber  satin  were  carefully  drawn  as  if  to  exclude  the  sun's 
rays.  An  air  of  gloom  pervaded  the  exterior,  from  the 
straight  windows  of  plate  glass  looking  out  of  their 
brown-stone  settings,  to  the  fierce  bronze  lions  that 
guarded  imposingly  either  side  of  the  marble  steps  that 
led  to  the  massive  carved  oaken  doors. 

The  mistress  of  this  elegant  mansio'n — Mrs.  Margaret 
Hall — a  tall,  stately  woman  of  sixty,  robed  in  heavy 
black  trailing  satin,  with  diamonds  blazing  like  stars 
upon  her  hands  which  lay  crossed  in  her  lap,  sat  alone 
in  her  boudoir,  alone  with  her  parrot  and  lap  dog.  Her 
heavy  black  brows  met  in  a  frown  that  seemed  habitual 
upon  that  grim,  proud  face.  She  rose  from  the  cush 
ioned  arm-chair  in  which  she  had  been  seated  and 
with  a  firm  step  crossed  the  room  to  her  writing-desk, 
and,  throwing  back  the  lid,  drew  from  it  a  letter  written 
in  a  bold,  handsome  masculine  hand,  which  she  perused 
for  the  twentieth  time  that  morning. 

"I  will  read  again  what  Royal  has  to  say,"  she 
mused. 

Before  she  could  draw  it  from  its  envelope,  there  was 
a  peal  of  the  door  bell,  and  a  moment  later  one  of  the 
servants  appeared  at  the  open  door. 

"If  you  please,  ma'am,"  he  began  hurriedly,  "there's 
a  young  girl  down  at  the  door  who  insists  upon  seeing 


38  PRETTY    KOSE    HALL. 

you.    I  told  her  you  wasn't  at  home  to  anybody,  bnt 
she " 

"Ah,  ha,  ha!  You  old  rascal,  you  knew  better!'* 
shrieked  a  shrill  voice  from  the  other  side  of  the  room. 

"Proceed,  Douglass,"  said  the  lady  calmly,  the  frown 
deepening  on  her  face,  "what  did  the  girl  want?" 
-  "I  beg  your  pardon,"  exclaimed  a  sweet,  hesitating 
young  voice,  "please  allow  me  to  explain  in  person.  I 
must  see  you,  madam,  and  alone." 

The  grand  old  lady  turned  sharply  around,  and  saw, 
standing  before  her  on  the  threshold  the  loveliest 
vision  of  timid  girlhood  she  had  ever  beheld. 

She  motioned  the  servant  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Now,"  she  said,  turning  to  the  young  girl,  "  who 
are  you,  and  what  do  you  want?" 

The  measured  words,  the  freezing  tone,  the  cold 
gleam  of  the  eyes,  the  frowning  stern  face  would  have 
intimidated  most  young  girls ;  but  the  haughty  de 
meanor  of  this  cold  proud  woman  did  not  daunt  the 
young  girl  before  her. 

She  glided  quickly  forward  and  knelt  at  the  grand 
old  lady's  feet. 

"I  have  but  just  heard  of  your  kind  offer  to  my  sister 
Lillian  and  me — to  come  to  you  and  share  your  home — 
and  love  you,  grandma.  Lillian  chooses  to  stay,  but  I 
have  come  to  you.  I  am  Rose — Rose  Hall,"  she  said: 
"won't  you  say  I  am  welcome,  grandma?" 

The  next  moment  two  arms  were  wreathed  round  her 
neck  and  fresh,  warm,  loving  rosy  lips  were  bid  upon 
the  cold  ones  that  had  not  known  a  caress  for  long 
years. 

Mrs.  Hall  looked  into  that  dark,  glowing,  beautiful 
face  so  like  the  one  she  had  idolized  in  the  bitter  past. 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  39 

'he  fair-haired  sister  whom  they  called  Lillian,  was 
like  the  young  mother  who  had  taken  from  her  all  that 
made  life  worth  living  for ;  but  this  one — Rose — had  the 
dark,  glowing  beauty  of  the  Halls ;  she  could  have  loved 
her  for  that  if  for  nothing  else. 

"Welcome  to  my  heart  and  home,  Rose,"  replied  Mrs. 
Hall,  with  stately  grace,  "and  as  long  as  you  conform  to 
the  conditions  of  my  offer  I  shall  love  you.  From  the 
moment  you  cross  this  threshold  you  leave  the  old  life 
behind  you,  together  with  all  its  associations.  Never 
refer  to  it.  My  niece  is  stopping  with  me,"  pursued 
the  lady.  "I  hope  you  will  be  friends,"  she  touched  the 
bell  as  she  spoke.  "Douglass,"  she  said,  "tell  Miss 
Derwent  I  wish  her  here  at  once." 

A  moment  later  a  tall  young  girl  entered  the  room. 

"Celia,"  said  Mrs.  Hall,  "this  is  my  granddaughter, 
Rose— Rose  Hall." 

Celia  Derwent  glided  forward,  and  touched  her  cold 
lips  to  Rose's  cheek,  murmuring  a  few  inarticulate 
words  of  greeting. 

For  an  instant  the  blue  eyes  and  black  ones  met, 
then  Celia  conducts  her  to  the  pretty  little  boudoir  just 
off  her  own,  which  is  to  be  set  apart  for  Rose's  use. 

Gayly  the  girls  chat  together  as  they  go  up  the  broa'd 
stairway,  and  the  smile  does  not  leave  Celia's  lips  till 
she  finds  herself  quite  alone,  and  then  the  stormy  face 
of  the  blonde  beauty  is  terrible  to  behold. 

Celia  Derwent  is  young  in  years,  not  over  eighteen, 
but  the  ways  of  the  world'  have  made  her  intriguing 
and  mercenary. 

She  had  been  cast  about  on  the  waves  of  poverty, 
until  her  Aunt  Margaret  Hall  rescued  her  and  installed 
her  in  her  elegant  home,  and  the  one  grand  dream  of 


40  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

her  life  had  been  that  she  AY  ill  -one  day  inherit  her 
aunt's  magnificent  fortune;  and  now,  with  the  appear 
ance  of  Rose  Hall,  she  sees  her  golden  dreams  vanish 
like  mist  before  the  sun,  and  the  girl  would  rather  die 
than  go  back  to  the  poverty  from  Avhich  her  aunt  res 
cued  her. 

There  is  another  reason,  too,  Avhy  sudden  terror 
struck  to  her  heart  as  she  gazed  upon  the  beautiful  face 
of  Rose  Hall. 

What  would  Royal  Montague  think  of  her  when  he 
saw  her?  admire  her  he  must,  but  would  he  learn  to 
love  her? 

Celia  Derwent  turned  Avhite  to  the  lips  as  she  pond 
ered  the  question  OArer  in  her  own  mind. 

In  her  own  room,  with  the  door  securely  fastened  to 
bar  out  all  intruders,  Rose  lay  face  downward  among 
the  pale  lilies  of  the  velvet  carpet,  sobbing  her  very 
heart  out  in  passionate  tears. 

Oh,  why  had  Heaven  not  given  her  this  beautiful 
home  long  years  ago?  then,  she  would  never  have  met 
the  man  who  had  cursed  her  bright  young-  life,  the  fatat 
chains  that  bound  her  to  him  would  never  have  been 
forged. 

What  would  her  haughty  grandmother  say  if  she 
knew  her  story?  What  would  the  fair-haired  girl 
whom  they  had  called  Celia,  say? 

"They  shall  never  know/'  cried  Rose,  springing  to 
her  feet  with  passionate  energy,  born  of  reckless  des 
pair. 

She  bathed  the  tear-stained  face,  and  smoothed  out 
the  tangled  black  curls,  and  as  she  descended  to  the 
dining-room,  even  Celia  Derwent,  looking  at  her  with 
jealous  eye*,  could  not  help  but  acknowledge  that,  if 


she  were  cli 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  41 


ie  were  dressed  as  other  girls,  there  would  not  be  a 
handsomer  girl  in  New  York  than  Rose  Hall. 

Her  proud,  ambitious  old  grandmother  was  delighted 
with  her.  How  brilliant  the  girl  would  be  in  society. 
She  would  marry  well. 

Rose's  gay,  dashing,  piquant  manner  pleased  her 
well.  She  never  dreamed  that  one  half  of  the  girl's 
nights  were  spent  in  the  bitterest  of  tears,  that  she  had 
throwrn  herself  into  the  vortex  of  fashionable  life  to 
cheat  an  aching  heart  into  forgetfulness,  to  blot  out,  if 
-  she  could,  that  terrible  week. 

There  was  one  thing  Mrs.  Hall  could  not  compre 
hend  :  Rose  could  never  be  induced  to  wear  a  diamond. 
Other  young  girls  coveted  them,  Rose  abhorred  them. 

Her  discovery  of  Rose's  antipathy  to  them  came 
about  in  a  singular  manner.  Mrs.  Hall  had  taken  her 
to  one  of  the  fashionable  je\velry  stores  on  Broadway 
to  purchase  a  pair  of  bracelets.  One  of  the  pair  which 
suited  her  best  contained  a  superb  white  diamond 
deeply  imbedded  in  its  yellow  depths,  the  other,  its 
mate,  was  severely  plain. 

"I  suppose  this  stone  could  be  matched?"  said  Mrs. 
Hall,  turning  the  ornament  over  in  her  hands. 

"I  have  nothing,  in  stock  just  like  it  at  present/'  re 
turned  the  jeweler.  "The  mate  to  it,  a  peculiarly  large 
and  brilliant  stone,  is  the  one  my  partner  pretended 
to  have  lost  when  he  absconded  some  few  weeks  since. 5? 

"Ah,  how  did  that  unfortunate  affair  of  yours  turn 
out?"  asked  Mrs.  Hall.  "There  was  something  of  it  in 
the  papers  a  few  days  since,  but  I  did  not  read  the  final 
result  of  the  trial.  Of  course  the  young  man  was 
guilty,  yet  I  could  not  help  feeling  sorry  for  Osric 
Lawrence." 


42  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

Rose  had  been  standing  by  her  side  gazing  indiffer 
ently  enough  at  the  glittering  contents  of  the  show 
case  ;  but  now  the  listless  indifference  fled ;  strained, 
painful  attention  took  its  place.  By  the  greatest  effort 
she  restrained  the  gasping  cry  that  sprung  from  her 
white  lips.  She  clinched  her  little  hands  so  tightly 
together  that  the  tender  skin  was  bruised;  but  she 
did  not  even  feel  the  pain  of  it  so  great  was  her  anxiety 
to  hear  the  words  that  fell  from  the  jeweler's  lips. 

Like  the  shock  of  doom  she  heard  his  answer. 

"He  was  sent  up  for  three  years,  madam.  True,  he 
made  restitution  of  all  the  money;  but  as  to  the  gems, 
the  most  valuable  one,  a  very  large  diamond  which 
was  set  in  a  ring,  he  declared  he  had  lost.  We  did  not 
believe  it.  As  he  had  not  the  wherewith  to  pay  for  it 
he  was  sent  up  for  three  years  to  repent  for  having  dis 
posed  of  it.  The  stone  was  valued  at  two  thousand 
dollars." 

Rose's  heart  gave  one  terrible  throb  as  he  finished 
speaking — then  seemed  to  stand  still.  Her  strength 
seemed  leaving  her,  her  limbs  trembled. 

How  little  they  dreamed  that  the  young  girl  listening 
so  closely  to  each  word  that  fell  from  their  lips  could 
have  revealed  to  them  the  whereabouts  of  the  diamond, 
that  it  had  been  put  upon  her  finger  as  a  marriage-ring 
and  she  had  afterward  flung  it  into  the  sea. 

How  strange  it  was  that  in  the  last  fatal  moment 
Osric  Lawrence  had  spared  her.  He  could  so  easily 
have  sent  them  to  her  island  home  and  claimed  it. 

She  did  not  know  that  the  one  prayer  of  his  heart 
night  and  day  had  been  that  the  bride  he  had  won 
should  never  know  the  story  of  his  folly,  for  the  day 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  43 

would  come  when  he  should  claim  her.    Love  for  beau 
tiful,  peerless  Rose  had  sealed  his  lips  in  silence. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Like  one  in  a  horrible  dream  Rose  listens.  She  is 
sorry  for  the  terrible  fate  that  overtook  Osric  Law 
rence,  still,  it  is  wonderful — a  merciful  relief  to  her  that 
for  three  long  years  she  will  be  quite  safe  from  his  per 
secutions. 

"I  will  enjoy  my  life  while  I  may,"  she  told  herself. 
"I  will  be  happy  \vhile  I  can !" 

Rose's  greatest  trial  was  being  separated  from  Lil-- 
Han.  Regularly  she  sent  her  Aunt  Hulda  all  the  pocket 
money  that  was  allowed  her,  together  with  pitiful  let 
ters  pleading  for  forgiveness  ;  all  this  was  done  secretly. 
Yet,  alas!  her  letters  were  always  returned  unopened; 
\vith  the  words  across  the  back : 

"You  are  as  one  dead  to  us !" 

The  money  was  returned  untouched. 

If  it  had  not  been  for  this  estrangement,  Rose  would 
have  been  happy ;  for  the  heart  of  youth  does  not  long 
brood  over  sorrow ;  but  gives  itself  up  to  the  pleasures 
of  the  present. 

Suitors  surrounded  her ;  but  it  seemed  that  peerless 
Rose  Hall  was  hard  to  please ;  she  sent  them  away  one 
after  the  other.  Mrs.  Hall  looked  on  but  made  no  com 
ment  ;  she  was  a  far-seeing,  shrewd  woman :  she  had 
studied  Rose's  nature  well,  and  was  not  at  all  surprised 
to  find  that  it  contained  a  spice  of  that  charming  qual 
ity  called  "contradiction."  She  formed  her  own  secret 
plans  as  to  whom  she  wished  Rose  to  marry :  but  she 
knew  if  she  mentioned  this  fact  to  her  together  with 
the  announcement  that  in  reply  to  her  pressing  invita- 


44  PRETTY    iiOSK    HALL. 

tion  to  Royal  Montague  to  visit  them,  he  had  answered 
he  would  be  in  New  York  by  the  last  of  June  at  latest, 
that  Rose  would  be  prepared  to  dislike  him  heartily 
and  rebel 

She  set  about  paving  the  way  for  his  coming  in  a 
manner  which  was  certainly  unique. 

'''Rose  shall  see  Royal  Montague  first,  then  we  shall 
see  what  follows,"  she  thought  with  a  smile. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  day  she  formed  this  resolu 
tion,  she  put  it  into  practice.  Rose  had  come  into  her 
boudoir  with  a  bouquet  of  freshly  gathered  flowers ;  she 
found  her  grandmother  deeply  engrossed  in  the  pages 
of  a  letter. 

"Rose,"  she  said,  returning  it  to  its  envelope,  "lay 
this  in  my  writing-desk  and  bring  me  the  card-case 
that  is  in  the  right-hand  corner." 

Rose  crossed  the  room  with  a  light  step  and  a  smile 
upon  her  lips.  How  was  she  to  know  that  the  card- 
case  she  was  sent  in  search  of  had  been  purposely  laid 
side  by  side  with  a  superb  portrait  of  a  young  and  hand 
some  man. 

She  stood  gazing  at  the  pictured  face  that  smiled  up 
at  her  from  the  depths  of  the  writing-desk,  like  one 
fascinated,  quite  forgetting  her  errand. 

Mrs.  Hall  turned  around  sharply,  and  with  quite  a 
show  of  impatience.  - 

"What  are  you  looking  at,  Rose?  what  are  you  do 
ing?"  the  girl's  face  flushed,  she  gave  a  guilty  start. 

"Whose  picture  is  this,  grandma?"  she  asked  in  a 
low  voice,  holding  the  portrait  up  to  view. 

Mrs.  Hall  looked  at  it  with  an  expression  of  great 
annoyance,  though  her  heart  beat  fast  at  the  success 
of  her  stratagem. 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  45 


"You  must  not  touch  that,  Rose,  indeed  you  should 
not  have  looked  at  it ;  dear  me,  how  careless  I  was  to 
send  you  to  that  desk  at  all.  I  quite  forgot  about  that 
picture  being  there." 

"But  now  that  I  have  seen  it,  won't  you  tell  me  who 
it  is?"  persisted  Rose,  eagerly. 

"I  would  rather  not!"  declared  Mrs.  Hall;  "it  is  no 
one  whom  you  have  ever  seen  or  ever  will  see  if  I  can 
prevent  it !" 

"You  have  aroused  my  curiosity,  grandma,"  said 
Rose.  "Tell  me  why  you  don't  wish  me  to  see  or  know 
the  original  of  this  portrait?  I'm  sure  he  looks  like  a 
very  clever  young  man." 

Mrs.  Hall  frowned. 

"I  am  sorry  that  you  have  seen  Royal  Montague's 
picture,  Rose.  I  prefer  not  to  speak  about  him.  Put 
the  portrait  where  you  found  it,"  she  said,  affecting 
great  annoyance,  while  she  was  at  heart  severely  de~ 
lighted. 

But  instead  of  obeying  her,  Rose  carried  it  to  the 
window  and  gazed  at  it  with  admiring  eyes.  The  dark- 
blue  eyes  seemed  to  smile  up  at  her,  and  the  mustached 
lips  almost  seemed  to  say:  "It  would  be  a  great  plea 
sure  to  know  you." 

The  face  upon  which  she  gazed  seemed  to  magnetize 
her;  her  heart  throbbed  strangely.  Why  should  the 
pictured  face  of  a  man  whom  she  had  never  seen  have 
power  to  move  her  so?  She  remembered  her  grand 
mother  had  called  him  Royal  Montague. 

"Rose,  do  you  hear  me,  put  that  picture  away,"  said 
Mrs.  Hall,  in  a  sharp  angry  voice. 

Yet  she  could  scarcely  refrain  from  laughing  outright 
to  see  how  well  her  ruse  worked. 


46  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL, 

"If  I  had  saicl:  'Rose,  here  is  a  picture  of  the  one 
man  above  all  others  whom  1  wish  you  to  admire/  the 
girl  would  have  seen  a  thousand  faults  in  him,"  she 
thought,  amusedly,  "but  forbidding-  her  to  look  at  it, 
gives  it  a  piquant  zest." 

"Put  the  picture  away,  Rose,  and  forget  it,"  she  said, 
slowly. 

"I  wish  you  would  tell  me  why,"  pouted  Rose. 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  to  put  you  on  yovTr 
guard,"  replied  Mrs.  Hall,  slowly,  knowing  well  the 
penchant  young  people  have  for  craving  that  which  they 
have  been  warned  and  guarded  against.  "I  will  tell  you 
why,  Rose,"  she  went  on,  hesitatingly :  "to  look  long  at 
the  handsome  face  would  be  to  admire  it  too  deeply, 
and  handsome  Royal  Montague  is  not  for  you;  to  ad 
mire  him  would  be  quite  in  vain,  he  is  almost  as  good 
as  engaged,  I  believe." 

Rose  could  not  tell  why,  but  the  words  fell  like  a 
chill  upon  her  heart. 

"I  am  not  quite  sure  that  he  really  is  engaged ;  he  is 
very  fastidious  in  his  tastes,  and  hard  to  please ;  a 
young  girl  would  have  to  be  more  than  ordinarily  beau 
tiful  to  win  him,  and  highly  accomplished.  We  will 
speak  no  more  about  him,  Rose ;  put  the  picture  away 
and  bring  me  my  card-case." 

This  time  Rose  obeyed. 

Yet  all  that  day  she  thought  of  the  pictured  face ;  the 
gaze  of  the  blue  laughing  eyes  haunted  her.  Ah,  why 
had  fate  given  such  a  noble  lover  to  some  fortunate  girl, 
while  to  her — a  startled  cry  broke  from  her  lips.  What 
thouirh  he  were  a  king  among  men,  and  she  could  have 
won  hi--  love,  of  what  avail  would  it  be?  it  was  madness 
, \vasiirif  one  thought  about  him.  Yet  that  night  when 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  47 

she  found  herself  alone  in  Mrs.  Hall's  boudoir  she  stole 
another  glance  at  the  portrait  in  the  writing-desk. 

Ah,  how  handsome  he  was.  If  she  had  met  such  a 
one  before  the  terrible  blight  fell  upon  her  life  could 
she  have  loved  him?  The  answer  in  her  throbbing 
heart  was  "Yes." 

•  Two  weeks  later,  Mrs.  Hall  with  her  niece,  Celia 
Derwent,  and  Rose,  had  taken  up  their  abode  at  Lin 
den  Villa,  as  their  summer  residence  at  Peekskill  on  the 
Hudson  was  called ;  and  to  open  the  festivities  of  the 
season  Mrs.  Hall  had  decided  to  give  a  lawn-tennis 
party.  Charades  were  to  be  given  in  the  evening,  and 
it  was  to  end  in  a  grand  ball. 

Celia  Derwent  was  delighted  with  the  prospect;  Rose 
was  rather  indifferent. 

•'What  shall  you  wear?"  cried  Celia  when  the  two 
girls  were  alone  in  their  rooms  examining  the  boxes  of 
finery  Mrs.  Hall  had  ordered  from  New  York  for  them 
for  this  occasion. 

"White,  I  suppose,"  answered  Rose, 

Celia  Derwent  shook  back  her  blonde  braids  impa 
tiently. 

"I  ought  to  wear  white,  and  you  ought  to  dress  in 
contrast,  Rose,"  she  declared. 

"Why,  what  can  it  matter?  What  difference  can 
it  make?"  questioned  Rose. 

"We  ought  to  make  a  sensation.  The  most  eligible 
young  men  in  the  country  will  be  here.  You  and  I  are 
spoken  of  as  the  red  and  white  roses.  We  ought  to 
dress  accordingly.  I  ought  to  dress  in  something 
light  with  rosebuds  in  my  hair  and  at  my  belt ;  you 
ought  to  wear  this  overdress  of  crimson  lace  with 
crimson  roses  in  vour  hair." 


48  PRETTY    ROSE   HALL. 

"It  will  not  matter  much  what  I  wear,  I  dare  say," 
Rose  commented.  "If  the  people  we  meet  here  are  likg 
those  at  the  grand  balls  in  New  York  I  shall  think 
them  very  tiresome.  I  am  heartily  tired  of  balls,  danc 
ing,  compliments  and  flattery." 

'"Wait  till  you  see  the  handsome  young  gentlemen 
hereabouts.  Many  of  them  belong  to  the  regiment 
which  is  camping  here.  Quite  a  number  of  them  will 
be  present.  Oh,  Rose,  they  look  delightfully  grand 
in  their  military  uniforms.  One  of  them  in  particular 
is  quite  a  favorite  of  Aunt  Margaret's.  I  suppose  she 
has  spoken  to  you  of  him,  his  name  is  Royal  Monta- 
gue?" 

As  she  asked  the  question  she  looked  anxiously  into 
Rose's  eyes.  Rose  blushed  but  did  not  reply. 

"I  have  never  met  him,"  pursued  Celia,  but  she  did 
not  add  that  since  she  had  first  heard  of  handsome 
Royal  Montague,  the  New  York  banker's  son  and  heir, 
and  saw  his  portrait,  the  one  hope  of  her  life  had  been 
to  capture  him  and  his  prospective  wealth  when  they 
should  meet. 

The  sun  never  shone  upon  a  gayer  party  than  that 
gathered  together  at  Linden  Villa  that  bright  after 
noon.  Pretty,  laughing  girls  and  debonair  cavaliers  in 
their  glistening  uniforms  and  dress  coats. 

The  party  was  at  its  height  when  Royal  Montague 
made  his  appearance,  and  by  Celia's  skillful  maneuver 
ing  she  succeeded  in  being  introduced  to  him  first. 

"I  shall  have  a  chance  of  making  quite  an  impression 
upon  him  before  he  sees  Rose,  and  the  impression  shall 
be  a  deep  and  lasting  one,"  she  promised  herself. 

Celia  was  very  coquettish.    She  knew  she  was  look- 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  49 


ing  her  best  and  she  put  forth  all  her  witchery  to  fas 
cinate  him.  He  certainly  seemed  to  admire  ken 

He  had  lingered  by  her  side  an  hour  or  raore  prom 
enading  the  lawn.  She  was  quite  careful,  bowever,  to 
keep  him  out  of  Rose's  way. 

The  old  saying,  "that  when  nature  makes  a  man 
handsome  she  takes  away  a  good  portion  of  his  brains 
as  an  offset,"  was  not  exemplified  in  the  case  of  Royal 
Montague.  He  was  neither  a  coxcomb  nor  a  dandy; 
he  never  indulged  in  idle  compliments,  he  never  talked 
of  love;  but  there  was  a  gallantry  and  deference  in 
his  manner  which  charmed  every  woman  with  whom 
he  came  in  contact. 

They  had  been  seated  on  a  rustic  bench  beneath  one 
of  the  linden-trees  when  suddenly  Royai  Montague 
turned  to  Celia  with  sudden  animation  in  his  face. 

"Look !  what  a  pretty  picture,  Miss  Derwent !"  he 
cried.  "Who  is  that  young  girl  standing  beside  the 
fountain  with  the  crimson  roses  in  her  hair?  " 

She  looked  up  with  sudden  misgiving  and  saw  that 
he  was  attentively  watching  Rose.  A  cold  chill  swept 
over  her  heart  and  her  face  paled,  and  a  dangerous  light 
glittered  in  her  pale-blue  eyes. 

"  Who  is  that  young  girl?  "  he  repeated. 

She  would  have  given  much  not  to  have  answered 
that  question ;  but  she  was  compelled  to  speak  for  he 
was  looking  into  her  face  with  eager  inquiry. 

"That  is  Rose  Hall,  the  granddaughter  of  your  host 
ess,"  she  said,  trying  to  speak  calmly  and  carelessly. 
"  We  are  both  her  protegees." 

<%Will  you  present  me  to  Miss  Hall?"  he  asked,  sud 
denly. 

She  would  have  given  the  world  to  have  been  able  to 


50 


have  refused  him,  but  she  dared  not ;  so  side  by  side 
they  walked  over  to  where  Rose  stood,  and  glancing  np 
at  the  stranger,  the  handsomest  young  man  she  had 
ever  beheld.  Rose  Hall  stood  facato  face  with  her  fate; 
then  the  real  tragedy  of  her  life  began. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Rose  Hall  was  standing  alone  by  the  fountain  when 
she  saw  Celia  Derwent  and  the  handsome  stranger  ap 
proaching  her. 

She  saw  that  Celia  was  all  smiles  and  apparent  amia 
bility,  and  she  guessed  that  her  companion  must  be 
one  of  her  list  of  "eligibles."  As  he  advanced  still 
nearer,  she  recognized  him  at  once  as  the  original  of 
the  portrait  she  had  seen  in  the  writing-desk. 

Celia  introduced  Royal  Montague  to  Rose,  closely 
watching  the  result.  He  bowed  low  before  her,  and 
there  was  no  mistaking  the  admiration  in  his  eyes  as 
they  rested. upon  the  beautiful,  girlish  face  before  him  ; 
but  he  talked  to  Rose  in  much  the  same  fashion  as  he 
had  talked  to  Celia. 

Celia  had  no  intention  of  leaving  them  alone  to 
gether,  but  fate  willed  differently,  and  she  was  obliged 
to  go,  Mrs.  Hall  having  sent  for  her.  There  was  a 
smile  on  her  lips  as  she  excused  herself,  but  in  her  heart 
there  was  bitter  rage. 

''\Youlcl  you  like  to  walk  as  far  as  the  river?"  asked 
Royal- 
Rose  asserted.  :ind  together  they  made  the  tour  of 
the  lawn  that  sl«->i *«••<!  down  to  the  banks  of  the  stream. 

He  talked  to  her  gayly  enough;  he  was  always 
charming  and  vivacious;  he  had  the  gift  of  knowing" 
exactly  what  to  say  and  how  to  say  it. 


£ 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  51 

Royal  -Montague  was  pleased  with  Rose's  simple, 
girlish  manner.  She  did  not  make  the  mistake  that 
many  young  girls  make — that  of  trying-  to  attract  him. 

He  did  most  of  the  talking*,  Rose  did  the  listening. 

From  the  first  moment  Rose  had  looked  into  Royal 
Montague's  eyes,  the  w*hole  world  seemed  to  change 
for  her.  The  gaze  of  those  laughing  eyes  awoke  some- 
ing  in  the  girl's  heart  that  was  never  to  sleep  again. 

He  saw  the  beautiful  dark  eyes  droop  tinder  his 
gaze,  and  the  lovely  cheeks  flush  scarlet ;  but  he  never 
dreamed  that  Rose  Hall  had  found  in  him  her  ideal — 
found  it  suddenly  and  without  warning ;  she  herself  did 
not  realize  it  then. 

He  was  the  one  man  in  all  the  world  whom  she  could 
have  loved  with  all  the  warm,  passionate  depths  of 
her  heart ;  but  alas !  he  had  crossed  her  path  too  late. 

Half  an  hour  passed — they  were  still  talking  by  the 
river;  to  Rose  it  seemed  but  a  blissful  moment.  She 
could  have  stood  forever  by  the  swift-flowing  river, 
looking  into  Royal  Montague's  handsome  face  and 
listening  to  him. 

Mrs.  Hall  watched  them  from  the  portico  and  smiled. 
She  wondered  how  long  they  would  stand  there,  if  she 
did  not  go  and  remind  Rose  that  there  were  other 
guests  anxious  to  be  presented  to  her. 

"It  certainly  looks  very  much  like  a  case  of  love  at 
first  sight  with  both  of  them,"  she  thought,  as  she 
walked  over  to  where  they  stood. 

To  Rose  her  appearance  was  Hke  the  breaking  up  of 
a  beautiful  dream. 

"I  am  sorry  to  have  monopolized  so  much  of  Miss 
Hall's  time.  I  apologize  and  beg  a  thousand  pardons," 
said  Royal,  laughingly.  "I  shall  not  be  so  remiss  again. 


PRETTY     ROSE    11 A  J.I,. 

I  am  going  to  stay  for  the  ball,"  he  went  on.  "  May  I 
ask  in  advance  for  the  first  waltz  with  you,  Miss  Rose?" 
he  said,  eagerly. 

Rose  blushed  and  assented,  and  as  she  raised  those 
dark,  splendid  eyes  of  hers  to  his,  he  read  in  them 
something  that  he  had  never  seen  in  any  woman's  eyes 
before. 

It  was  admiration  that  thrilled  Royal  Montague's 
heart  as  his  eyes  followed  the  slender,  girlish  form 
as  she  left  him ;  but  in  the  heart  of  Rose  Hall  love  was 
awakened.  She  went  among  her  guests  with  smiling 
lips,  flushed  cheeks,  and  shining  eyes.  Men  who  had 
found  her  cold  and  proud  before,  took  heart  of  grace 
at  the  change  in  her  demeanor  toward  them  and  were 
highly  elated.  How  were  they  to  know  that  she 
scarcely  heard  a  word  they  said  to  her,  and  that,  when 
she  smiled,  and  her  lovely  face  flushed,  it  was  not  their 
words  that  caused  it — she  was  thinking  of  a  handsome-* 
face  and  a  pair  of  laughing,  sunny,  blue  eyes. 

The  day  passed  as  the  days  always  do,  whether  they 
be  shortened  by  happiness  or  lengthened  by  sorrow. 

But  Rose  Hall  kept  no  count  of  the  hours;  all  that 
was  taking  place  seemed  like  a  dream  to  her;  the  only 
effort  that  she  could  make  was  an  attempt  to  prevent 
other  people  from  guessing  her  secret. 

The  evening  which  ended  in  the  grand  ball  was  even 
more  delightful,  than  the  day  had  been. 

Royal  sought  her  at  once  when  the  music  of  the  beau 
tiful,  dreamy  '"'Bluebells  of  Scotland"  waltz  struck  tip. 

"You  are  very  kind  not  to  have  forgotten  a  promise 
made  so  far  in  advance,"  he  said,  laughingly. 

Then  came  to  Rose  a  dream  of  music,  of  light,  of  per 
fume,  a  handsome  face  looking  down  into  her  own,  a 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  53 

strong  arm  clasping  her,  a  vision  of  happiness  and  de 
light  ;  and  there  was  no  one  to  whisper  to  her — no  angel 
to  warn  her  that  the  path  which  looked  so  pleasant  led 
to  a  chasm  of  darkness  and  despair. 

A  woman  of  more  maturity  might  have  realized  her 
danger — might  have  seen  the  rock  ahead  in  ker  future — • 
might  have  been  strong  enough  to  reason  with  herself, 
knowing  the  past;  but  it  could  not  be  expected  that 
Rose — pretty,  hapless  Rose,  who  was  scarcely  more 
Vhan  sixteen — knew  how  to  battle  with  life,  with  love, 
and  with  fate. 

The  dark  past  seemed  but  a  horrible  dream  to  her. 
She  remembered  only  that  three  years  of  respite  had 
been  given  her,  and  that  she  had  promised  herself  she 
should  enjoy  them. 

Youthful  hearts  never  dream  that  they  are  being 
drawn  into  the  meshes  of  love  until  the  spell  is  over 
them. 

Rose  did  not  realize  that  it  was  wrong  to  give  herself 
up  so  entirely  to  the  pleasure  of  Royal  Montague's 
society — to  treasure  up  his  words  and  his  looks  when  he 
was  away  from  her — to  feel  her  pulses  thrill  when  she 
saw  him  coming  toward  her — to  feel  keen  regret  when 
he  bade  her  good-bye. 

"Have  you  enjoyed  the  day  and  the  evening,  Rose?" 
asked  Celia  Derwent,  when  the  two  girls  were  alone  in 
their  room  that  night. 

"Enjoy  it?"  cried  Rose,  turning  her  dark,  curly  head 
away  on  the  lace  pillow  to  hide  her  blushes — "more 
than  I  can  tell  you,  Celia;  it  has  been  the  happiest  day 
of  my  life." 

Celia  bit  her  lips  and  gave  the  curl  papers  she  was 


54  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

twisting  up  such  a  wrench  that  she  nearly  cried  out 
with  the  pain  of  it. 

"I  think  I  can  guess  why  you  enjoyed  it  so  much," 
she  said,  in  a  low,  strained  voice.  "A  certain  person 
made  it  very  pleasant  for  you/' 

"Every  one  made  it  pleasant  for  me,"  replied  Rose. 

Celia  sat  down  upon  the  edge  of  the  low  couch,  and 
drew  Rose's  hands  away  from  her  face. 

"There  is  one  question  I  should  like  to  ask  you, 
Rose,"  she  said:  "How  do  you  like  Royal  Montague?" 

"I  do  not  see  how  any  one  could  help  admiring  him. 
I  have  never  met  a  more  perfect  gentleman,"  admitted 
Rose.  "Yes,  Celia,  I  like  him  very  much  indeed." 

"Be  careful  that  every  one  does  not  see  what  I  have 
seen  to-night — that  you  are  in  love  with  him,"  said 
Celia,  laughingly ;  but  try  as  hard  as  she  could  she 
could  not  drown  the  bitter  sneer  in  her  tone. 

Rose  looked  up  in  dismay. 

"In  love  with  Mr.  Montague !"  she  cried  distressedly. 
"Oh,  no,  Celia,  that  could  never  be.  I  could  not  love 
him  if  I  would.  I  dare  not*" 

"Why,"  asked  Celia,  gazing  into  the  face  raised  to 
hers;  "do  you  love  some  one  else?  Have  you  ever  had 
a  lover?" 

A  terrified  look  flashed  into  the  dark  eyes  into  which 
she  was  looking.  There  was  that  in  their  dark  depths 
which  quite  belied  the  "No,"  she  uttered  so  faintly, 
frightened  at  having  told  so  much. 

"I  do  not  believe  her,"  thought  Celia.  "She  has  too 
pretty  a  face  to  escape  the  notice  of  men  and  attract 
ing  some  one  of  them." 

"Never  had  a  lover?"  repeated  Celia.  "That's  strange: 
why,  what  part  of  the  country  did  you  come  from?" 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  03 

for  worlds  would  Rose  have  told  her. 

"My  past  was  not  a  very  happy  one,"  she  admitted, 
faintly.  "I  would  rather  not  discuss  it." 

That  night  when  Celia  went  to  her  room  and  was 
putting  "this  and  that  together,"  to  use  her  own  ex 
pression,  she  concluded  that  there  was  some  dark  mys 
tery  in  the  past  life  of  Rose  Hall,  and  if  there  was  not 
a  lover  in  the  case  why  was  it  that  she  "dare  not  love 
any  one?" 

"I'll  ferret  this  matter  out/'  was  Celia's  mental  con 
clusion.  "I  shouldn't  wonder  if  she  has  left  a  lover 
behind  her,  and  she  has  tired  of  him  after  seeing  what 
society  beaus  are  like." 

Her  first  move  must  be  to  find  out  where  Rose  had 
come  from  and  to  write  on  there  making  secret  inquir 
ies. 

But  how  should  she  make  the  discovery  of  that  upon 
which  Rose  was  so  reticent?  That  was  the  annoying- 
puzzle. 

For  an  hour  or  more  she  paced  her  room  in  absorbing 
thought. 

"What  a  fool  I  am,"  she  cried  at  length,  "not  to 
have  thought  of  that  before ;  of  course  there  must  be 
addresses  among  her  effects.  I  will  make  a  search 
through  them  at  once." 

With  noiseless  feet  she  glided  through  the  corridor. 
The  door  of  Rose's  room  was  not  fastened  and  she  en 
tered  as  softly  and  as  silently  as  a  shadow.  It  was  a 
daring  deed  which  she  was  about  to  undertake ;  but  the 
girl  was  fearless. 

Tired  out  with  the  exciting  day  of  pleasure,  Rose  lay 
fast  asleep  on  the  lace  pillow.  Instinctively  Celia  drew 


56  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

near  the  couch  and  looked  down  upon  the  flushed  face 
of  the  sleeper. 

Suddenly  a  low  moan  broke  from  Rose's  lips. 

"No  one  knows  that  it  is  a  living  lie!"  she  breathed. 
aOh,  Lillian  do  not  let  him  betray  me  to  the  world, 
I  could  not  bear  that ;  I  should  die !" 

Celia  Derwent  could  scarcely  repress  the  cry  of 
triumph  that  rose  to  her  lips. 

"How  shrewd  I  was  to  suspect  the  girl  of  sqme  ter 
rible  secrejt,"  she  thought.  "Now  it  is  reduced  to  a  cer 
tainty/' 

The  moon's  rays,  clear  and  white,  threw  a  bright  ra 
diance  into  the  room,  rendering  every  object  plainly 
discernible. 

Softly  Celia  knelt  on  the  carpeted  floor  examining 
the  contents  of  the  bureau  drawer  with  great  care. 

There  Avere  laces,  underwear,  bits  of  ribbon,  bows 
and  all  the  etceteras  belonging  to  a  young  girl's  ward 
robe  ;  but  not  a  scrap  of  paper  to  give  her  any  clew 
such  as  she  was  looking  for. 

There  was  a  newspaper  carefully  tied  up.  It  was 
dated  the  4th  of  June.  Celia  searched  its  columns 
carefully.  She  saw  that  it  contained  the  picture  of  a 
young  and  handsome  man.  The  name  beneath  the  pic 
ture  read  Osric  Lawrence;  but  she  never  dreamed  this 
had  anything  to  do  with  its  being  preserved  so  care 
fully.  Suddenly  her  eye  fell  upon  the  torn  leaf  of  a 
memorandum.  With  eager  hands  the  girl  seized  it  and 
bore  it  to  her  own  room,  a  smile  of  wicked  triumph 
lighting  up  her  pale  face. 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  57 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

In  a  moment  Celia  Derwent  had  gained  her  own 
room,  smoothed  out  the  crumpled  leaf  of  the  mem 
orandum  and  held  it  to  the  gaslight,  scanning  the  writ 
ing-  upon  it  with  breathless  eagerness. 

There  were  but  a  few  words,  evidently  in  Rose's 
handwriting,  and  read : 

"I  can  not  bear  the  separation  from  Lillian  much 
longer,  oh,  if  the  heart  of  Hulda  Martin  would  but  re 
lent  toward  me." 

"Now  who  in  the  world  can  Hulda  Martin  and 
Lillian  be?"  thought  Celia.  "My  first  move  must  be 
to  solve  that  puzzle.  What  if  I  should  unearth  some 
dark  mystery  in  the  past  life  of  Rose  Hall ;  what  would 
the  result  be,  I  wonder?  Aunt  Margaret  would  turn 
her  from  the  house,  and  she  would  be  disgraced  for 
ever  in  the  eyes  of  Royal  Montague.  Such  a  prospect 
is  well  worth  working  for." 

From  that  night  a  silent  foe  was  upon  Rose's  path  j 
a  foe,  who  in  the  guise  of  friendship,  was  to  track  her 
down  to  her  doom. 

The  morning  after  the  grand  ball  the  first  thought 
that  came  to  Rose  as  she  opened  her  dark  bright  eyes 
to  the  morning  sunlight  was :  When  should  she  see 
handsome  Royal  Montague  again ;  would  he  call  at 
Linden  Villa  that  afternoon? 

He  did  call,  and  he  found  Rose  looking  prettier  than 
ever  in  her  white  mull  dress  and  crimson  ribbons ;  her 
eyes  shone  with  a  glad  light  as  she  held  out  her  little 
white  hand  and  welcomed  him.  Celia's  welcome  was 
no  less  cordial,  although  she  saw  plainly  he  had  no 
eyes  for  her  when  Rose  was  near. 

Days  lengthened  into  weeks,  the  summer  was  almost 


58  I'RKTTY     ROSE    HALL. 

drawing  to  a  close.  Yet,  Royal  Montague  had  lin 
gered  in  the  vicinity  of  Linden  Villa,  and  each  after 
noon  found  him  a  vistor  there.  Mrs.  Hall  was  well 
pleased,  and  to  Rose  the  coming  of  Royal  Montague 
was  tfee  wine  of  life.  She  had  drifted  into  loving  him 
with  all  the  passionate  strength  of  her  heart. 

She  had  shut  the  past  out  of  her  thoughts,  and  given 
herself  up  to  the  dream  of  the  present.  Alas!  that  the 
dream  being  so  sweet  should  be  so  sinful.  Women 
have  the  art  of  deceiving  themselves  cruelly  when  love 
is  at  stake;  but  how  a  woman  knowing  that  her  hus 
band  lives,  can  give  herself  up  to  a  dream  of  another 
face  and  another  voice  is  a  puzzle ! 

A  faint  intuition  came  to  Rose  that  she  should  have 
fled  from  the  love  that  had  taken  possession  of  her;  but 
she  would  stifle  her  conscience  by  crying  out :  "That 
she  had  had  such  a  dreary  childhood,  and  the  future 
was  to  be  such  a  cruel  blank,  that  these  few  hours 
of  pleasure  would  be  all  she  would  have  to  look  back  to 
in  her  lonely  life ;  surely  Heaven  would  not  deprive  her 
of  the  friendship — (for  it  could  never  be  anything 
more) — that  was  so  sweet  to  her!" 

So  few,  alas !  so  few !  have  the  self-control,  the  self- 
restraint  to  deprive  themselves  of  that  which  attracts 
them  for  conscience's  sake;  and  those  who  love  the 
danger  perish  in  it.  The  very  great  evil  of  all  sin  is 
the  glamour  it  throws  over  the  sinner. 

It  would  have  been  bard  for  Royal  Montague  himself 
to  have  analyzed  his  feelings  toward  beautiful  Rose 
Hall ;  he  could  not  deny  that  he  was  charmed  with  her, 
that  he  found  her  society  delightfully  agreeable ;  that 
the  touch  of  her  hand  thrilled  his  heart ;  that  the  glance 
of  those  wondrous  dark  eyes  magnetized  him ;  that  her 


I'XETTY     ROSE    HALL.  59 

glowing  beauty  bewitched  him.  A  man  could  not  well 
help  being  bewitched  by  that  gypsyish  piquant  face; 
the  crimson  laughing  mouth  and  dimpled  rosy  cheeks; 
but  it  was  hardly  love  that  filled  Royal  Montague's 
heart;  it  was  deep  reverent  admiration  as  yet.  What 
it  might  come  to  in  the  futurt  he  did  not  stop  to  con 
sider. 

At  this  juncture  of  affairs  a  strange  event  happened 
that  changed  the  whole  current  of  three  human  lives. 

One  morning  the  papers  contained  a  startling  an-* 
nouncement ;  it  was  the  burning  of  the  prison  in  which 
Osric  Lawrence  had  been  confined.  His  name  headed 
the  death-roll. 

Mrs.  Hall  read  the  graphic  details  of  the  account 
at  the  breakfast-table.  Celia  Derwent  listened  with 
interest,  but  Rose  turned  away  with  a  dead-white, 
agonized  face.  True  she  did  not  love  the  man  who  had 
met  with  such  a  horrible  arid  untimely  fate.  He  had 
blighted  her  life.  Still,  she  had  been  bound  to  him  by 
the  most  solemn  tie  this  world  holds.  She  was  ten 
der  of  heart ;  she  wept  for  him,  even  though  she  knew 
his  death  had  set  her  free. 

Now  there  was  no  reason  why  she  should  not  give 
herself  up  to  the  sweet  dreams  that  possessed  her — 
no  reason  why  she  should  withhold  the  idolatrous  love 
of  her  heart  from  Royal  Montague. 

Day  after  day  Royal  and  Rose  were  thrown  con 
stantly  into  each  other's  society,  and  he  must  have 
been  blind  not  to  notice  the  love  that  shone  in  the 
girl's  eyes,  for  the  language  of  the  eyes  reveals  elo- 
ntly  that  which  never  passes  the  lips. 

Matters  came  to  a  crisis  in  a  sudden  and  unexpected 
ner. 


60  PRETTY    ROSE   HALL. 

One  afternoon  Royal  had  ridden  over  to  Linden 
Villa  on  one  of  the  fiery  chargers  that  belonged  to  a 
brother  officer  at  the  camp.  His  companions  warned 
him  against  using-  th.e  animal,  for,  to  use  their  own 
expression,  they  saw  that  the  devil  was  in  him  by  the 
wicked,  cunning  glance  of  his  eyes  as  he  pranced  and 
pawed. 

The  daring  young  fellow  only  laughed  as  he  vaulted 
gracefully  into  the  saddle,  grasped  the  bridle,  and  was 
off  like  the  wind  in  the  direction  of  Linden  Villa. 

One  of  the  servants  saw  him  approaching,  and  hur-' 
ried  down  to  open  the  entrance  gate  for  him. 
Whether  it  was  the  creaking  noise  of  the  gate  as  it 
swung  back  on  its  hinges,  or  the  white  handkerchief 
that  fluttered  in  the  groom's  hand  that  caused  the 
terrible  accident  at  that  moment,  no  one  ever  knew. 

For  a  swift  instant  the  animal  quivered  as  if  with 
an  electric  shock;  the  next  he  had  wheeled  so  sud 
denly  about  as  to  unseat  his  rider,  plunged  madly  for 
ward,  reared,  and  dashed  riderless  down  the  road  with 
the  speed  of  the  wind. 

Royal  Montague,  unconscious  and  bleeding,  was 
carried  into  the  house,  laid  upon  the  sofa  in  the  draw 
ing  room,  and  a  doctor  quickly  summoned. 

Mrs.  Hall  and  Celia  were  out  shopping.  There  was 
no  one  at  home  but  Rose.  A  wild  cry  burst  from  her 
lips  when  she  saw  who  it  was  they  had  lain  upon  the 
sofa.  She  knelt  down  beside  him  with  the  most  pit 
eous  cries,  raising  his  head  in  her  white  arms,  and 
brushing  the  dust  from  his  pale,  handsome  face. 

"  Leave  me  with  him  until  the  doctor  comes,"  she 
cried,  motioning  them  air  away ;  and  silently  they, 
quitted  the  room,  closing  the  door  softly  after  them; 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL. 

but  through  the  open  windows  the  girl's  wailing  cries 
floated  out  to  them.  "Royal,  my  love,  oh,  my  love! 
if  you  die  Heaven  must  let  me  die  too ! "  she  sobbed, 
covering  the  white  face,  the  closed  eyes  and  matted 
hair  with  passionate  kisses  in  her  terrible  grief. 
"  What  will  life  be  to  me  without  you?  Oh,  my  love, 
my  love/'  she  sobbed,  "  you  will  never  knowr  how  well 
I  love  you !  I  would  give  my  life  for  yours — I  would 
meet  death  to  save  you  one  pang !  " 

She  clasped  the  unconscious  form  closer  in  her  white 
Arms,  caressing  him  with  piteous  agony,  and  mur 
muring  broken  words  of  love  over  him,  and  her  heart 
and  soul  were  in  the  quivering  kiss  she  laid  on  the 
unconscious  lips. 

Unconscious,  did  I  say?  It  was  not  quite  that. 
For  a  few  moments  the  force  of  the  fail  stunned  and 
bewildered  Royal  Montague,  but  the  action  of  the 
cold  water  with  which  Rose  bathed  his  face  brought 
back  his  dazed  senses  at  once. 

He  felt  the  clinging  arms  about  him,  the  passionate 
kisses  on  his  cheek  and  brow ;  the  wailing,  broken 
words  of  love  that  were  sobbed  out  over  him,  fell  like  a 
shock  upon  his  startled  ears.  Sheer  amazement  and 
consternation  chained  his  dazed  senses.  Should  he 
open  his  eyes  and  falter,  "  Forgive  me,  Rose,  I  have 
unconsciously  discovered  your  love  for  me?''  It 
would  be  embarrassing  to  the  girl's  proud  nature ; 
yet  it  was  equally  embarrassing  to  him  to  receive  the 
assurances  of  her  love  with  closed  eyes — she  believing 
him  unconscious. 

Royal  Montague  was  a  gentleman  and  a  man  of 
honor,  yet,  between  duty  and  delicacy  he  scarcely 


62  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

knew  which  way  to  turn.  Fortunately  the  doctor's 
quick  footsteps  relieved  him  in  his  trying  dilemma. 

The  usual  restoratives  were  applied,  then  he  dared 
open  his  eyes. 

Rose  stood  beside  him  with  a  white,  scared  face. 

"  Oh,  doctor,  tell  me — I  can  not  bear  suspense — is 
he  badly  hurt  or  not?  "  he  heard  her  inquire  piteously. 

''Badly  hurt?"  repeated  the  doctor.  "I  am  glad 
to  say  he  has  had  a  miraculous  escape.  He  has  been 
stunned,  that  is  all.  In  the  course  of  a  day  or  two  he 
will  be  all  right." 

The  doctor's  predictions  proved  quite  true.  Dur 
ing  the  days  of  convalescence  Royal  remained  at 
Linden  Villa — Mrs.  Hall  would  consent  to  nothing 
else.  Celia  Derwent  was  more  than  devoted  to  him— 
she  read  to  him,  she  sung  for  him,  she  played  low,  ten 
der  melodies  for  him — everything  to  show  how  inter 
ested  she  was  in  him. 

Rose  stood  by  strangely  silent,  but  when  her  trem 
blings  hands  touched  his,  or  lay  for  a  moment  cool  and 
soft  as  lily  leaves  upon  his  hot  brow,  they  told  their 
own  story — of  Rose's  deep  love  for  him. 

The  secret  that  he  had  discovered  puzzled  and 
troubled  Royal  Montague  not  a  little.  He  was  amazed 
that  any  one  should  love  him  so  much — that  it  was 
of  such  vital  importance  to  any  one  whether  he  lived 
or  died.  His  heart  was  touched — he  was  greatly  per 
plexed. 

Tic  was  a  thorough  gentleman,  and  the  question 
which  agitated  him  was,  what  should  he  do?  He  ad 
mired  beautiful  Rose  Hall  exceedingly ;  but  he  had 
never  dreamed  that  she — the  beauty  of  the  season — 
would  marry  him.  lie  had  felt  no  tendency  whatever 


to  fall  in  love  with  her.  He  had  never  imagined  him 
self  fascinating  enough  to  win  anything  snore  than 
kindly  friendship  from  brilliant  Rose  Hall,  who  could 
count  admirers  by  the  score. 

The  discovery  that  she  loved  him  in  secret  surprised 
him  beyond  measure.  Then  his  thoughts  took  another 
turn.  Why  not  ask  Rose  to  become  his  wrfe? — she 
was  as  beautiful  as  a  dream  and  she  loved  him  with 
all  her  heart.  It  was  not  possible  that  he  would  ever 
care  for  any  one  more  than  he  cared  for  Rose. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Royal  Montague's  thoughts  took  definite  shape. 

Yes,  he  would  carry  out  the  resolution  he  had  ar 
rived  at  without  delay — he  would  ask  Rose  to  be  his 
wife  before  he  left  Linden  Villa. 

He  had  received  letters  which  necessitated  his  pres 
ence  in  New  York  at  once,  and  he  decided  to  ask  per 
mission   of    Mrs.    Hall   to   speak   to   Rose   before   he 
went. 

Although  Mrs.  Hall  was  secretly  delighted,  she  was 
too  diplomatic  to  let  Royal  see  how  pleased  she  was. 

"  Rose  is  very  young,  Royal,"  she  said.  "  She  has 
never  yet  given  a  thought  to  love  or  lovers.  It  would 
be  well  to  think  this  matter  over  before  giving  you  an 
answer.  Do  you  think  Rose  cares  for  you  ? "  she 
added,  earnestly. 

"  1  have  reason  to  believe  so,"  he  answered,  and  she 
never  dreamed  that  it  was  aught  save  his  love  for 
her  peerless  Rose  that  brought  the  flush  to  his  hand 
some  face. 

"  I  will  do  my  best  to  make  her  happy,"  he  went 
on  modestly. 


64  PRETTY    ROSE   HALL. 

"  I  am  sure  you  would,"  replied  Mrs.  Hall  hastily. 

She  felt  sure  that  Rose's  future  would  be  happily  as 
sured  if  she  were  Royal  Montague's  wife. 

"  She  is  different  from  other  girls,"  she  went  on, 
thoughtfully ;  "  love  will  make  or  mar  her  life.  She 
is  not  one  of  those  who  could  love  lightly." 

"  I  can  well  believe  that,"  answered  Royal  Mon 
tague,  gently ;  "  but,"  he  urged,  "  you  will  surely  per 
mit  me  to  speak  to  her  before  I  go  away?  delays  are 
often  dangerous;"  and  before  the  interview  was  over 
Mrs.  Hall  had  consented. 

The  dusk  had  crept  up  while  they  were  talking,  and 
when  he  left  her  he  went  into  the  starlit  grounds, 
odorous  with  the  breath  of  the  pale  primroses,  where 
he  knew  he  would  find  Rose. 

Neither  of  them  knew  there  had  been  a  silent  lis 
tener  to  that  interview — that  from  the  vine-wreathed 
balcony  just  outside  the  window  Celia  Derwent  had 
heard  all.  Her  pale  lips  twitched  and  her  bosom 
heaved  convulsively. 

She  had  seen  that  it  would  come  to  this  from  the 
very  first;  yet  she  had  been  powerless  to  prevent  it. 
But  again  she  registered  the  strange  vow  that  she  had 
made  when  she  first  saw  Rose  Hall's  face — that  she 
should  never  wed  Royal  Montague.  She  would  part 
them  at  the  very  altar. 

How  well  she  kept  that  vow  of  vengeance  we  shall 
see. 

Out  in  the  fragrance  of  the  starlit  garden  Royal 
had  sought  Rose  and  found  her,  and  there  among  the 
waving  lindens  sighing  softly  amid  the  wooing  breezes 
of  the  night-wind,  the  old,  sweet  story  was  repeated 
— the  old,  sweet  story  of  love  that  has  thrilled  the 


hearts  of  generations  past  and  gone  when  youth  was 
in  its  prime  and  love  was  the  bright  dream  of  life — 
the  old,  old  story  that  will  thrill  the  hearts  of  count 
less  thousands  yet  unborn  when  the  rapture  of  love's 
whisperings  shall  be  but  a  cfim  memory  with  us. 

"  You  have  not  given  me  my  answer.  Rose,"  said 
R.oyal  Montague,  bending  his  handsome  head  and 
ooking  at  the  fair  face  upon  which  the  radiant  moon- 
ight  fell. 

To  have  saved  her  life  Rose  could  not  have  an 
swered  him ;  her  heart  was  too  full.  He  saw  her 
glance  up  at  the  fleecy  clouds;  but  he  did  not  know 
that  she  was  crying  out  from  the  depths  of  her  very 
soul : 

"  Oh,  Heaven,  I  thank  thee  for  giving  me  the  one 
:lesire  of  my  life!  " 

He  was  startled  at  the  gaze  in  the  lovely  dark  eyes 
that  were  raised  to  his  face  as  he  whispered  the  words 
2hat  were  the  sweetest  music  to  her. 

What  answer  she  made  him  the  night-winds  nor 
die  listening  roses  will  never  divulge.  It  must  have 
satisfied  Royal,  however,  for  he  bent  his  handsome 
liead  and  kissed  the  sweet  lips,  and  she  did  not  rebuke 
him.  Only  Heaven  knew  how  well  she  loved  him. 

An  hour  later  Royal  had  left  Linden  Villa  and  was 
on  his  way  to  New  York ;  yet,  Rose  Hall  still  stood 
Upon  the  spot  where  he  had  left  her.  It  was  pitiful 
to  see  how  the  beautiful  girl  idolized  the  handsome 
lover  from  whom  she  had  just  parted. 

Tears  would  have  come  to  the  eyes  of  those  all 
unused  to  pity,  to  have  seen  her  kneel  upon  the  spot 
where  he  had  stood ;  lay  her  soft  cheek  against  the 
crimson  bells  and  silver  leaves  his  white  hands  had 


C6  PRETTY    ROSE   HALL, 


touched  as  he  stood  there  talking  to  her,  murmuring 
how  kind  God  had  been  to  her  to  give  her  the  love  her 
heart  craved  so. 

She  quite  forgot  the  law  of  God  that  the  heart  should 
never  hold  an  earthly  idol.  She  would  have  chosen 
death  with  her  love  rather  than  have  lived  without 
him. 

Mrs.  Hall  was  sitting  in  her  favorite  arm-chair  by 
the  window  when  Rose  entered  her  boudoir,  glided  up 
to  her  side,  knelt  at  her  feet,  laying  her  flushed  cheek 
against  the  jeweled  hands  in  the  silken  lap. 

"  Grandma,  dear,"  murmured  the  girl ;  "  I  am  so 
wondrously  happy !  " 

"  I  can  guess  why,  my  darling,"  said  the  old  lady, 
raising  the  pretty  blushing  face  and  kissing  it  re 
peatedly.  "  Royal  has  asked  you  to  be  his  wife,  and 
you  have  consented." 

Rose  nodded  her  head,  and  then  to  escape  the  ques 
tions  that  she  knew  would  be  sure  to  follow  and  have 
to  he  answered,  she  ran  away  to  her  own  room  with 
a  gay  happy  laugh,  as  blithe  and  light  of  heart  as  a 
school  girl.  Ah,  well,  hearts  in  which  love  holds  sway 
are  always  happy.  It  is  only  those  who  have  found 
that  love  is  as  fickle  as  the  April  sunlight,  or  those 
who  have  suffered  for  want  of  love,  only  those  find 
this  beautiful  world  of  ours  dreary. 

It  was  a  pity  that  the  beautiful  dream  of  Rose  Hall 
was  to  be  broken  so  cruelly,  and  alas,  so  soon ! 

At  the  moment  she  was  parting  from  Royal  Mon 
tague  in  the  starlit  garden  of  Linden  Villa,  quite 
another  scene  was  transpiring  on  the  little  island  down 
by  the  Maine  coast. 

In  the  silence  of  the  summer  night,  a  little  boat  in 


IRETTV    ROSE    HALL,  67 


which  a  stranger  sat,  came  dancing  over  the  silvery 
waves  heading  straight  for  the  light-house.  For  an 
instant  the  man  rested  upon  his  oars  as  he  neared  it, 
and  his  very  heart  was  in  the  gaze  he  bent  upon  it. 

His  soul  seemed  to  leap  from  him  and  reach  the  old 
light-house  in  advance  of  his  body,  dart  through  the 
open  window  and  search  those  dreary  rooms  until  it 
found  its  mate. 

The  man  was  Osric  Lawrence ;  he  had  escaped  the 
terrible  conflagration  unharmed,  and  traveled  by  night 
and  day  incessantly  to  reach  the  lonely  island  where 
a  few  short  months  ago  he  had  left  a  beautiful  young 
bride  with  the  wedding-ring  which  had  cost  him  so 
dear,  upon  her  finger. 

What  had  she  thought  when  the  sunlit  summer 
days  came  and  went  and  brought  him  not;  the  weeks 
lengthened  into  months ;  yet  no  line  from  him 
reached  her.  What  had  his  beautiful  Rose  thought? 
had  she  pined  away  and  died  through  the  cold  neglect? 
Had  she  waited  for  him  in  vain  on  the  spot  where 
they  had  parted,  as  he  had  bade  her  do,  until  her  ten 
der  young  heart  broke? 

Hot  burning  tears  fell  from  Osric  Lawrence's  eyes. 
It  never  occurred  to  him  that  the  terrible  story  of  hjs 
folly  had  reached  his  young  bride  in  her  isolated  island 
home;  the  saddest,  yet  simplest  story  that  ever  was 
written  of  a  young  man's  downfall ;  of  the  sin  he  had 
drifted  into  in  appropriating  that  which  was  not  his 
own  in  a  mad  moment  of  temptation. 

He  had  said  that  he  would  replace  what  he  was 
taking,  but  we  all  know  of  that  place  which  is  paved 
with  good  intentions. 

if  he  had  but  met  his  beautiful  Rose  before  he 


68  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

had  lent  himself  to  such  terrible  folly,  life  would 
have  been  different  with  him !  "  But  it  was  not  too 
late  yet,"  he  promised  himself,  with  a  sob ;  her  love 
should  redeem  him. 

How  he  would  clasp  her  in  his  arms!  how  he  would 
kiss  her  lovely  face  as  he  strained  her  to  his  heart, 
and  weep  such  tears  over  her  as  seldom  fall  from  the 
eyes  of  man !  And  from  the  moment  his  lips  touched 
hers  a  new  life  should  begin  tor  him.  He  was  still 
young,  accomplished.  He  would  live  down  the  past, 
and  build  up  for  himself  a  beautiful  future. 

Tie  would  take  Rose  quietly  away — he  would  take 
her  so  far  away  that  no  one  would  ever  see  or  recog 
nize  him.  They  believed  he  was  dead — buried  under 
the. smoldering  ruins  of  the  prison-wall — so  must  they 
think  for  all  time. 

The  little  boat  grated  on  the  beach,  and  he  sprung 
ashore,  his  feet  barely  touching  the  white  sand  as  he 
flew  breathlessly  up  the  path  to  the  door  of  the  old 
light-house. 

For  a  rnoment  he  drew  back  with  his  hand  trpon  the 
old-fashioned  knocker. 

How  his  heart  beat !  String  man  that  he  was,  he 
trembled;  his  breath  came  hot  and  quick.  What  if 
it  were  Rose  who  opened  the  door  for  him?  Even 
though  a  hundred  eyes  were  on  him,  how  could  he 
restrain  himself  from  catching  her  in  his  arms,  cry 
ing  out,  "  Oh,  Rose!  my  beauteous  bride!  I  have  come 
back  to  you,  at  last !  " 

A  voice  broke  the  solemn  and  terrible  stillness.  It 
was  not  Rose's  voice.  He  remembered  the  low,  croon 
ing  voice;  it  was  the  old  servant. 

He    touched    the    brass    knocker   with    a    trembling 


PRETTY    ROSI-:    HALL.  69 

hand,  and  it  seemed  to  him  the  length  of  eternity  be 
fore  the  door  was  opened. 

He  knew  that  he  must  ask  for  Abel  Martin,  the  old 
light-house  keeper;  he  dared  not  call  for  Rose. 

The  door  was  opened  at  length,  and  the  woman 
started  back  in  surprise  at  the  white  face  that  was 
turned  toward  her.  She  recognized  the  stranger  at 
once  as  the  young  man  whom  pretty  Rose  Hall  had 
rescued  the  night  of  the  terrible  storm,  and  who  had 
remained  at  the  light-house  nearly  a  fortnight  in  con 
sequence  of  the  sprained  arm  he  had  received. 

"I  should  like  to  see  Mr.  Martin,"  he  said;  but 
even  as  he  spoke  his  yearning  eyes  roved  past  her 
to  see  if  he  could  discern  a  glove,  a  hat,  a  bit  of  rib 
bon — anything  that  would  be  likely  to  belong  to 
Rose. 

The  serving  woman  started  back  with  a  little  cry 
of  consternation. 

"  Perhaps  you  haven't  heard  the  sad  news,  sir," 
she  said.  "  Poor  Mr.  Martin  has  been  dead  this  many 
a  month." 

The  shock  was  so  great  Osric  Lawrence  fell  back 
against  the  casement  of  the  door  like  one  who  had 
been  dealt  a  heavy  blow. 

"  Hut  the  family,  where  are  they?  Where  is 
Rose?"  he  gasped,  and  the  voice  which  asked  the 
question  was  scarcely  human  in  its  agonizing  intens 
ity.  ''Where  is  Rose?"  he  repeated.  "In  God's 
name  tell  me  quickly — is  not  Rose  Hall  here?" 


•70  PRETTY    ROSE   HALL. 

CHAPTER  X. 

The  old  servant  gazed  in  dismay  at  the  white  face 
of  the  stranger  who  stood  on  the  threshold;  but  she 
answered  quickly: 

"  They  are  all  gone,  sir ;  my  brother  and  I  have 
charge  of  the  light-house  now.  Miss  Rose  ran  away 
long  months  ago ;  it  was  that  which  broke  poor  old 
Abel's  heart.  After  he  died  the  rest  went  away,  sir." 

Osric   Lawrence  heard  but  those  few  words : 

"  Rose  had  fled  from  there  long  months  ago !  " 

He  caught  his  breath  with  a  terrible  cry ;  had  Rose 
heard  of  what  he  had  done?  had  she  confessed  to 
them  that  she  was  his  wife?  had  they  turned  her  out 
into  the  cold  world?  but  no,  the  woman  before  him 
was  telling  him  Rose  had  fled,  and  they  had  grieved 
after  her 

"But  why,  how  was  it?  why  did  Rose  go?"  he 
cried.  "  In  Heaven's  name  answer  me  quickly,  for 
I  am  desperate.  You  lived  here  among  them,  you 
heard  what  they  said ;  what  they  talked  about ;  you 
have  some  idea  why  she  went  away  and  where  she 
went  to." 

''Oh,  yes,  I  heard  why  she  went,  sir;  she  grew 
tired  of  this  lonely  life;  Miss  Rose  was  a  gay,  blithe 
lassie,  sir;  some  one  who  had  taken  a  great  fancy  to 
her,  and  who  had  plenty  of  money  pleaded  with  her 
to  go ;  there  was  a  stormy  scene  here ;  they  almost 
cursed  her;  she  went  to  the  stranger,  and  her  name 
was  never  mentioned  here  after  that." 

The  man  before  her  stood  panting,  gasping,  white 
as  death;  the  veins  stood  out  in  his  forehead  like 
whip-cords,  and  his  hands  trembled. 

"  you  say  she  went  with  a  stranger ;  was  it  a  man 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL,  71 

or  woman ;  speak,  tell  me  it  was  neither  lover  nor — > 
nor — " 

His  voice  died  away  in  a  tearless  sob ;  he  could  not 
finish  the  sentence,  the  words  choked  him,  his  brain 
was  reeling. 

"  Oh,  no,  sir,  it  was  with  no  lover.  She  went  to  a 
proud  and  haughty  woman,  a  relative  of  the  family's. 
Yet  for  long  years  great  enmity  had  existed  between 
them  ;  that  is  why  they  almost  cursed  her,  sir ;  be 
cause  she  took  it  into  her  head  all  of  a  sudden  to 
leave  here  and  go  to  their  enemy/' 

"  How  long  ago  did  you  say  that  was  ? '"  asked  Os- 
ric  Lawrence  in  the  same  unearthly  voice. 

"Oh,  a  very  long  time  ago,  sir;  a  few  days  after 
you  were  here,  sir.  1  remember  the  time  well,  be 
cause  Hulda  Martin  and  her  niece  were  away  to 
Stony  Point  at  about  that  time,  and  it  happened 
shortly  after  they  came  back." 

"  But  did  Rose  not  write  after  she  went  away  ?  " 
he  inquired  excitedly ;  "  did  she  leave  no  address,  no 
clew  by  which  she  might  be  found?" 

The  woman  shook  her  head. 

'  She  is  as  one  dead  to  us ! '  those  were  their  wrords, 
sir;  'she  will  be  a  grand  lady  now/  the}^  said;  '  she 
will  marry  some  one  of  great  wealth  in  the  mag 
nificent  home  where  she  has  gone;  nothing  is  left  for 
us  but  to  forget  that  we  ever  knew  and  loved  Rose 
Hall/  That  is  all  I  know  about  it — all  I  can  tell  you, 
sir." 

Slowly  the  horrible  truth  came  home  to  him ;  he 
quite  believed  that  she  had  not  heard  of  the  misfor 
tune  that  had  befallen  him.  She  had  not  waited  and 
pined  for  his  return ;  but,  in  the  fickleness  of  her 


72  PRETTY    KOSli    HALL. 

woman's  heart  she  had  repented  of  that  hasty  mar 
riage  ;  and  it  was  to  escape  him  she  had  run  away, 
taking  refuge  with  those  whose  aid  she  had  never 
sought  until  then. 

She  had  not  revealed  her  secret  marriage;  and  she 
had  left  no  clew  by  which  he  could  trace  her  when 
he  came  for  her. 

Suddenly  an  idea  occurred  to  him,  he  would  rind 
out  where  the  Martin  family  had  gone.  They  could 
tell  him  where  Rose  was.  Strange  he  had  not 
thought  of  it  before. 

The  reply  to  the  eager  query  bereft  him  of  the 
last  ray  of  hope. 

After  Rose  had  gone  and  the  old  light-house  keepei 
died,  Hulda  Martin  and  her  other  niece,  Lillian,  had 
left  the  place,  no  one  knew  their  destination.  Hulda 
Martin  had  left  but  one  message : 

"If  Rose  ever  came  back  and  inquired  for  them 
to  tell  her  '  she  was  as  one  dead  to  them — never 
through  life  would  their  paths  cross  again ! ' 

"  And  that  is  all  you  can  tell  me?  "  said  Osric  Law 
rence,  and  the  woman  before  him  guessed  something 
of  the  truth  when  she  looked  up  at  him  and  saw  great 
burning  tears  rolling  down  his  cheeks — he  loved  Rose 
Hall. 

If  a  man's  heart  can  break  and  he  yet  live  Osric 
Lawrence's  heart  broke  then. 

As  he  turned  away  and  staggered  down  the  white 
sand  from  the  light-house  all  the  good  that  was  in  his 
nature  died. 

A  step  sounded  on  the  sand  beside  him.  It  was 
the  old  servant.  She  had  followed  him.  She  was 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

sorry  for  the  young  man.  She  laid  her  brown  hand 
•on  his  arm : 

"Were  you  Rose  Hall's  lover,  sir?"  she  asked. 
"  If  you  were  I  have  something  to  tell  you" 

The  light  that  came  into  his  face  was  pitiful  to  see. 

'*  Rose  had  left  some  message  for  him  with  this 
woman  and  she  had  just  remembered  it." 

That  was  the  thought  that  flashed  through  his 
mind 

"  Yes,  I  was  her  lover,"  he  gasped  "  She  was  more 
to  me  than  the  whole  world — more  to  me  than  my 
life." 

"  Did  yor  give  her  a  ring  as  a  token  of  your  love?  " 

Osric  drew  back  and  looked  at  the  woman  a  mo 
ment,  hesitatingly,  then  answered  a  low,  hoarse 
"  Yes." 

"  Then  I  feel  sorry  for  you,  sir,"  she  said,  "  for 
the  night  before  she  went  away  I  saw  her  standing 
by  yonder  window.  She  took  something  from  her 
neck  which  had  been  fastened  to  it  by  a  ribbon,  and  as 
she  held  it  up  towrard  the  moon's  rays  I  saw  that  it 
was  a  glittering  ring  such  as  fine  ladies  wear.  '  I  will 
fling  this  from  me  as  I  fling  all  thoughts,  all  love,  all 
memory  of  the  giver  from  me,'  T  heard  her  say ;  with 
that  she  tossed  the  ring  from  her  far  out  into  the 
waves.  I  have  been  sorry  a  hundred  times  that  I  did 
not  tell  Hulda  Martin,  or  Abel,  what  I  saw  and  heard 
that  night." . 

Osric  Lawrence  turned  from  her  with  a  terrible 
cry.  Those  words  had  been  the  death  warrant  to  his 
hopes.  In  that  moment  he  almost  learned  to  hate  the 
beautiful  girl-bride  he  had  wedded. 

Let  her  beware  of  him.     The  world  is  wide,  but  not 


74  PRETTY    ROSE    HALE. 

so  wide  but  that  he  would  find  her  sooner  or  later* 
Like  one  driven  mad  he  turned  without  a  word  and 
plunged  once  more  into  the  soft,  sweet  shadows  of 
the  night. 


When  Royal  Montague  had  parted  from  Rose  he 
had  gone  at  once  to  the  depot,  and  a  few  minutes 
later  was  en  route  to  New  York.  His  thoughts  were 
of  Rose,  peerless  Rose,  whose  smiles  others  had 
sought  in  vain,  who  had  turned  from  them,  one  and 
all,  because  she  loved  him. 

It  was  pleasant  to  know  that  he  had  the  power  of 
awakening  such  love.  His  vanity  was  flattered;  the 
very  fondness  of  this  lovely  girl  for  him  drew  his  heart 
toward  her. 

He  had  written  to  his  mother  that  he  would  be 
home  on  the  twentieth  instant ;  he  knew  she  would  be 
waiting  for  him,  and  he  knew  who  else  would  be 
waiting  for  him — pretty  Evelyn  Gray,  a  great  favorite 
of  his  mother's,  and  who  always  managed  to  secure 
invitations  to  the  house  when  the  handsome  young 
son  was  at  home. 

Should  he  make  known  his  engagement  to  Rose? — 
that  was  the  question  he  asked  himself  over  and  over 
again,  as  he  walked  hastily  up  the  dTvenue. 

No  carriage  had  been  sent  to  meet  him,  owing  to 
the  frequency  of  the  incoming  trains,  and  not- know 
ing  which  of  them  he  micrht  take. 

It  had  been  the  hand  of  Fate  that  prompted  Royal 
Montague  to  alight  from  one  of  the  down-town  cars, 
and  walk  the  greater  part  of  the  way  in  the  direction 
of  the  avenue  on  which  he  resided. 

Two  ladies  were  walking  in  advance  of  him ;  one 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  <•) 

was  elderly  and  heavy  set,  the  other  was  young  and 
graceful.  The  voice  of  one  was  shrill  and  complain 
ing,  the  other  as  sweet  and  mild  as  the  soft,  low 
chiming  of  a  silver  bell.  Yet  Royal  Montague  would 
have  passed  them  by  without  a  thought  or  glance 
had  not  a  singular  event  happened. 

In  stepping  from  the  pavement  to  the  cross-walk 
the  elder  woman  slipped  and  fell. 

A  terrified  cry  broke  from  the  young  girl's  lips 
— a  cry  that  brought  Royal  Montague  to  their  as 
sistance  in  an  instant. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you?"  he  inquired;  but,  as  he 
asked,  his  quick  eyes  took  in  the  situation  at  a 
glance. 

The  bright  rays  of  the  gas-lamp  fell  full  upon  the 
face  the  young  girl  raised  to  him — the  most  beauti 
ful  face  he  had  ever  beheld,  framed  in  a  mass  of 
golden  hair. 

"  My  Aunt  Hulda  has  fallen — she  has  fainted,  sir!  " 
she  said,  with  a  piteous  quiver  of  the  lips.  "  If  you 
would  be  so  kind  as  to  call  a  cab  for  us,  I  should  be 
most  grateful." 

In  an  instant  he  had  darted  off  to  do  her  bidding. 
Luckily  a  cab  was  within  hailing  distance,  and  Royah. 
secured  it  at  once.  ad 

He  assisted  the  driver  in  placing  the  unfortunathe 
woman  in   the  vehicle.     The   younger  one,   with  her« 
blue  eyes   full  of  tears,  murmured  her  thanks.     The 
door  closed  with  a  bang,  and  the  cab  rolled  rapidly 
up  the  avenue,  and  was  soon  lost  to  sight  in  the  dark 
ness. 

Royal  Montague  stopped,  and  drawing  a  memor 
andum  from  his  pocket,  hastily  jotted  down  the  street 


76  PRETTY     ROSE    KALI.. 

and  number  the  young  girl  had  given  the  driver. 
Why  he  did  this  he  himself  could  not  have  told. 

"  I  thank  you  in  my  Aunt  Hulda  Martin's  name/" 
she  had  said  to  him.  "  I  am  her  niece,  Lillian." 

"  Lillian,"  he  repeated  musingly,  as  he  walked 
slowly  homeward  "Was  there  ever  a  face  so  fair? 
— the  name  suits  her  well !  " 

Something  in  the  glance  of  those  blue  eyes  thrilled 
Royal  Montague's  heart.  In  that  one  moment  his  life 
seemed  to  change — a  pair  of  blue  eyes  had  driven 
out  of  his  heart  all  thoughts  of  Rose — Rose  who  loved 
him  so,  and  to  whom  he  had  so  lately  plighted  his 
troth ! 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Royal  Montague  walked  slowly  homeward,  still 
thinking  of  the  fair  young  girl  from  whom  he  had 
just  parted. 

"  I  must  call  to-morrow  on  my  way  down  town  and 
inquire  if  her  aunt  is  better,"  he  thought. 

Mrs.  Montague  welcomed  her  handsome  son  warmly. 
She  quite  idolized  this  stalwart,  broad-shouldered  son 
of  hers. 

Evelyn  Gray  held  out  the  rosy  tips  of  her  fingers, 
fc^er  pale-blue  eyes  sparkling  with  delight. 
a§7"  We  have  been  looking  for  you  since  early  morn- 
ng,    Royal,"    she    said.      "  It    is    quite    cruel    of    you 
to  keep  us  waiting  so  long/' 

"  I  am  more  than  sorry,  Evelyn,"  he  replied,  con 
tritely ;  "but  now  that  I  am  home,  T  shall  endeavor 
to  make  full  amends." 

An  hour  or  more  he  remained  in  the  drawing-room 
with  the  ladies  before  going  up  to  his  own  room;  and 


he  made  the  mistake  of  calling  Evelyn,  Lillian. 

"  I  shall  not  sing  for  you  any  more,  Royal,"  she 
pouted,  rising  from  the  piano.  "  It  is  plainly  evident 
you  have  not  been  listening;  your  thoughts  are  else 
where." 

He  laughed  carelessly. 

'  That  is  only  your  fancy,  Evelyn,"  he  answered. 

She  had  sung  one  of  her  most  impassioned  love 
songs  and  he  had  not  even  heard  it. 

''Good-night,  Royal,"  she  said;  and  before  he  was 
quite  aware  of  it,  he  found  himself  alone. 

Royal  Montague  passed  a  restless  night ;  all 
through  his  dreams  he  could  hear  the  music  of  a 
sweet  girlish  voice,  and  see  a  fair  troubled  face,  but 
it  was  not  the  face  of  Rose  Hall. 

Early  the  next  day,  quite  as  soon  as  etiquette  per 
mitted,  Royal  Montague,  with  a  superb  bouquet  in 
hand,  presented  himself  at  the  house  the  location  of 
which  he  had  jotted  down  the  night  before  in  his 
memorandum.  He  sent  up  the  flowers  and  his  card, 
requesting  to  know  if  the  accident  had  proven  ser 
ious. 

Lillian  herself  answered  the  inquiry  in  person. 
She  saw  before  her  the  handsome  young  man  who  had 
rendered  them  such  timely  service  at  the  time  of  the 
accident.  He  saw  that  the  beautiful  blue  eyes  were 
red  and  swollen  with  weeping. 

4*  My  aunt  is  much  easier,  thank  you,  sir,"  she  said. 
"  We  sent  for  the  doctor  immediately  upon  reaching 
home,  and  he  found  that  Aunt  Hulda's  ankle  was 
badly  sprained.  It  will  be  several  weeks,  we  fear. 
before  she  is  able  to  be  about,  and  the  pain  is  in 
tense." 


7»  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

And  the  lovely  blue  eyes  raised  to  his  were  brim 
ming  over  with  tears. 

"Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  her?"  he  asked. 
Then  he  remembered  that  he  was  an  entire  stranger, 
and  that  the  answer  would  certainly  be  a  polite  "  no." 

Lillian  shook  her  head. 

"  You  are  very  kind/'  she  said  simply,  "  but  there 
is  nothing  you  can  do  for  her.'' 

"  You  will  not  think  me  impertinent  if  I  call  to  in 
quire^  now  and  then,  if  she  is  better?"  he  asked 
eagerly. 

"  I  could  not  think  any  one  impertinent  for  taking 
an  interest  in  the  welfare  of  my  dear  unfortunate 
aunt,"  said  the  girl,  gravely. 

From  that  morning  marvelous  bouquets  and  bas 
kets  of  delicate  fruit  found  their  way  to  Hulda  Mar 
tin's  sick-room.  Royal  Montague  was  the  florist's 
best  customer.  Volumes  of  poems  often  accompanied 
the  flowers,  and  now  and  then  a  note  expressing  the 
hope  that  Mrs.  Martin  was  recovering. 

"  I  should  like  to  thank  him  for  his  kindness  to 
me,  Lillian,"  said  Hulda,  one  day.  '  The  next  time 
the  young  man  calls  invite  him  into  the  sitting- 
room." 

"  Oh,  aunt,"  cried  Lillian,  glancing  around  in  dis 
may,  "  our  lodgings  look  so  shabby,  and  he  is  such 
a  gentleman.  I  don't  like  to  invite  him  up  and  let 
him  see  how  poor  we  are." 

"  If  he  has  any  sense  he  knows  that  we  are  not  rich, 
living  on  the  third  floor  of  a  New  York  flat."  de 
clared  Hulda  emphatically ;  "  he  must  know,  too,  that 
we  have  to  work  for  a  living,  so  you  can  go  right  on 


riilCTTY    ROSE    HALL.  /y 

jvith  your  fan-painting  even  if  he  is  sitting  here. 
¥"ou  needn't  mind  him." 

The  next  time  Royal  called  he  was  delighted  at 
3eing  invited  up  into  the  sitting-room,  where  Mrs. 
Martin  sat.  She  was  reclining  in  her  great  arm-chair 
the  window.  Lillian  sat  by  the  table,  her  fair 
'ace  bent  over  the  pale-pink  roses  she  was  deftly 
painting  on  the  satin  fans. 

She  blushed  when  she  saw  his  eyes,  so  full  of  ad 
miration  bent  upon  her.  He  did  not  say  much  to  Lil 
lian,  but  devoted  himself  entirely  to  win  the  liking 
of  the  aunt. 

When  he  went  away  that  morning,  Hulda  Martin 
voted  him  the  most  perfect  gentleman  she  had  ever 
met. 

"  Is  it  not  wonderful,  Lillian,"  she  added,  "  that  he 
should  take  such  an  interest  in  me  ?  " 

Lillian  bent  lower  over  the  fans  she  was  coloring, 
making  no  reply. 

Many  a  time  that  day  the  handsome  face  of  their 
visitor  rose  before  her.  She  liked  to  recall  the  words 
he  had  said,  and  the  glance  of  his  eyes. 

From  that  day  Royal  was  a  constant  visitor  to 
Hulda  Martin.  At  first  he  argued  himself  into  the 
belief  that  if  a  few  flowers  or  books  brought  pleas 
ure  to  them,  if  his  cheery  words  made  their  life 
brighter,  what  harm  could  there  be  in  his  coming? 

In  obedience  to  her  aunt's  wishes,  Lillian  had 
adopted  her  name,  Martin.  From  the  moment  Rose 
had  left  them,  Hulda  could  never  bear  the  name  of 
Hall  mentioned  in  her  presence. 

Lillian  did  not  even  know  where  Rose  had  gone ; 
Hulda  had  carefullv  destroved  the  address. 


80  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

Poor  Lillian  did  not  even  know  that  the  great  city 
of  New  York,  where  she  and  her  aunt  had  come  in 
search  of  employment  when  the  old  light-house 
keeper  died,  was  the  winter  home  of  the  proud,  old 
lady — the  haughty  grandmother  who  had  coaxed 
their  beautiful  Rose  from  them  by  the  power  of  her 
glittering  gold. 

It  happened  thus  that  Royal  Montague  knew  Lil 
lian  Hall  as  Lillian  Martin. 

Hulda  Martin  had  long  since  discovered  what  the 
magnet  was  that  brought  handsome  Royal  Montague, 
the  banker's  son,  to  their  humble  lodgings.  She 
watched  them  when  they  met  and  when  they  parted, 
and  she  told  herself  that  Royal  was  certainly  in  love. 
She  made  no  comments  to  Lillian,  who  was  not  one 
of  those  girls  one  could  discuss  a  love  affair  with ; 
she  was  so  coy  and  bashful  she  would  be  greatly  dis 
tressed. 

The  time  came  when  Royal  Montague  stood  face  to 
face  with  the  knowledge  of  his  secret.  He  had  be 
gun  to  realize  what  he  was  doing,  to  know  that  the 
sweet  witchery,  the  glamour  falling  over  him  was 
all  love ;  to  realize  that  he  lived  only  in  fair  Lillian 
Martin's  presence,  and  without  her  life  would  be  a 
blank  ;  to  realize  that  he  loved  Lillian  with  the  one 
great  love  of  his  life,  before  which  all  others  grew 
pale  and  dim. 

He  said  to  himself  that  if  marriages  were  made  in 
heaven,  Lillian  was  the  one  intended  for  him,  that 
she  was  the  only  one  in  this  world  he  could  love. 

He  knew  that  at  last  he  had  met  his  fate ;  that  he, 
Royal  Montague,  engaged  to  marry  the  beautiful 


81 


heiress,   Rose   Hall,   loved    with   his   whole   heart   an 
other. 

He,  the  very  soul  of  honor,  had  fallen  into  this  state 
of  blind  worship  without  realizing  it  until  it  was  too 
late ;  fallen  into  the  deepest  pit  love  ever  digs  for  the 
feet  of  man. 

He  had  never  trembled  at  the  touch  of  a  young 
girl's  hand  before.  Now  if  his  hand  touched  hers, 
if  her  dress  brushed  against  him  as  she  passed  by  him, 
his  heart  thrilled  with  a  sense  so  keen  it  was  almost 
pain. 

He  quite  believed  that  Lillian  was  not  indifferent 
to  him ;  he  could  read  her  thoughts  in  a  thousand 
different  ways. 

If  he  hail  been  free  he  would  have  asked  Lillian 
Martin  to  be  his  wife. 

"  I  wish !  "  he  cried  to  himself  in  vain  reproach, 
"  that  I  had  not  been  so  impetuous  in  asking  poor 
Rose  to  marry  me ;  would  to  heaven  it  were  to  be 
done  over  again  !  " 

He  cried  out  at  the  strange  fate  that  had  befallen 
him.  Rose,  who  loved  him  better  than  her  owrn  life, 
was  as  beautiful  as  a  goddess.  Yet  his  heart  had  not 
gone  out  to  her  as  it  had  to  Lillian.  He  was  grate 
ful  to  Rose  for  the  love  she  had  lavished  upon  him : 
but  he  could  not  give  her  in  return  that  love  that 
comes  to  a  man's  heart  but  once  in  a  lifetime. 

He  saw  now  what  a  terrible  mistake  he  had  made 
in  asking  Rose  to  marry  him ;  simply  because  he  had 
discovered  the  girl's  great  love  for  himself;  and  now 
that  he  was  bound  in  faith  and  honor  to  her,  he  had 
met  the  one  above  all  others  whom  he  loved  and 
would  have  wedded  but  for  Rose. 


82  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

He  loved  one  girl  with  all  the  strength  of  his  heart 
•—and  was  promised  to  another ! 

Long  tender  letters  came  to  him  from  Rose ;  but 
his  handsome  face  grew  whiter  as  he  read  them. 
Ah,  if  Rose  had  but  loved  him  less ! 

He  was  perplexed,  greatly  troubled;  how  he  re 
proached  himself  for  yielding  to  the  temptation  of 
gazing  upon  Lillian's  fair- face,  drinking  in  the  music 
of  her  voice,  when  he  was  in  honor  bound  to  marry 
another. 

He  knew  that  he  should  have  kept  away  from  Lil 
lian  when  the  sweet  dream  of  love  began  to  steal  over 
him. 

"  If  I  marry  Rose !  "  he  cried  out  in  the  bitterness 
of  his  heart,  "  I  shall  be  miserable  all  my  life  long." 

Each  letter  from  Rose  breathed  over  and  over 
again  the  girl's  great  absorbing  love  for  him. 

''  You  are  the  light  of  my  life,  Royal/'  she  wrote. 

"  You  are  to  me  what  the  sunlight  is  to  the  flowers. 
If  you  ever  loved  me  less  death  would  be  welcome. 
Oh,  Royal,  my  darling,-  I  am  often  frightened  at  my 
passionate  worshipful  love  for  you." 

When  Royal  Montague  read  such  letters  as  thes£ 
which  each  day  brought  him,  his  handsome  face 
would  grow  whiter  and  he  would  cry  out  that  his 
doom  was  indeed  sealed. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Royal  Montague  laid  down  Rose's  letter  with  a 
groan  of  despair.  Every  line,  every  word  revealed  to 
him  the  girl's  idolatrous  love  for  him. 

He  almost  hated  himself  because  he  could  not  give 
her  back  love  for  love. 


c 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL. 


'here  was  but  one  course  to  pursue ;  he  must  go 
to  Rose  and  in  a  manly,  straightforward  manner  tell 
her  his  story.  He  must  say  to  her : 

"  I  am  bound  to  you,  Rose,  but  I  love  another.  It 
is  for  you  to  decide  what  my  future  will  be.  I  leave 
my  fate,  my  happiness  in  your  hands/' 

If  she  still  clung  to  him,  refusing  to  give  him  up, 
he  would  marry  her.  He  would  be  a  true  husband ; 
he  would  give  her  reverence,  respect,  everything  but 
love,  that  was  not  his  to  give,  for  his  heart  had  gone 
out  to  another. 

On  the  contrary,  if  she  released  him  he  would  bless 
her  for  the  generous  action.  His  gratitude  would 
be  boundless,  for  it  would  enable  him  to  woo  and 
win  fair, -sweet  Lillian. 

He  was-  glad  when  he  read  in  one  of  Rose's  letters 
that  they  would  be  in  New  York  by  the  first  of  the 
following  month. 

"  I  am  very  anxious  to  see  you,  Royal/'  she  wrote, 
"  for  it  is  more  than  a  month  since  you  left  Linden 
Villa." 

Rose  loved  him  so  blindly  that  she  did  not  notice 
the  growing  coldness  and  the  shortness  of  his  letters. 

As  the  weeks  rolled  by,  and  Royal  showed  no  in 
tention  of  running  up  to  Linden  Villa  to  see  Rose, 
Mrs.  Hall  grew  a  little  uneasy  over  the  matter.  She 
knew  what  it  meant  when  a  man  commences  to  make 
excuses  about  having  no  time  to  spare.  She  knew 
that  when  a  man  is  deeply  and  thoroughly  in  love 
he  will  let  nothing  interfere  with  his  visits  to  his 
loved  one — business,  everything  must  stand  back  for 
love's  sweet  sake. 

Mrs.  Hall  was  not  pleased.     Linden  Villa  was  not 


84  PRETTY    ROSE   HALL. 

such  a  great  distance  from  New  York,  surely  he  could 
have  come  up  once  a  week  at  least,  if  he  had  had  the 

inclination  to  do  so.  She  noticed  that  his  letters  to 
Rose  came  less  frequently.  These  were  not  very  good 
signs  to  the  experienced  eyes  of  Mrs.  Hall,  for  that 
reason  she  decided  to  come  to  the  city  a  little  earlier 
than  she  had  otherwise  intended  to  do. 

She  \vatchcd  with  anxious  eyes  the  meeting  between 
Koyal  and  Rose.  The  girl's  face  shone  with  delight 
and  love  ;  her  lover's  face  looked  white  and  haggard. 
The  words  which  fell  from  his  lips  seemed  forced ; 
he  was  certainly  ill  at  ease. 

It  was  no  wonder.  A  fair,  spiritual  face,  crowned 
with  a  halo  of  golden  hair,  and  a  pair  of  sweet,  plead 
ing  pansy-blue  eyes  rose  up  before  his  mental  vision, 
entirely  blotting  out  the  dark,  glowing  beauty  of  the 
girl  beside  him. 

Royal  knew  what  was  expected  of  him  when  Rose 
came  tripping  into  the  room  bright  and  glowing  as 
the  flowers  she  wore.  He  took  the  little  dusky  hand 
in  his  and  bending  over  kissed  the  lovely,  laughing 
lips. 

"  How  white  you  are,  Royal,"  she  cried.  4t  Have 
you  been  ill?  You  have  lost  all  your  bright,  cheery, 
genial  manner  which  made  you  so — so  irresistible." 

He  flushed  uneasily  and  looked  confused.  What 
would  she  have  said  if  she  had  known  why  he  looked 
so  gloomy,  that  he  was  trying  to  summon  courage  to 
tell  her  the  story  that  was  to  blight  her  beautiful 
love-dream  ? 

They  were  standing  together  beside  a  jardiniere 
f.Iled  with  odorous  blossoms.  He  had  clasped  Rose's 
hand?  ;  yet  he  hardly  knew  how  to  begin,  she  was  look- 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  85 


ing  up  at  him  so  fondly  with  those  great,  luminous 
eyes  of  hers. 

"  I  have  been  so  lonely  without  you,  Royal,"  she 
said,  drooping  her  beautiful  head  nearer  to  him — 
"  even  in  crowds  I  have  been  inexpressibly  lonely. 
There  was  one  evening  in  particular  that  I  was  very 
miserable,"  she  said,  nestling  closer  to  him.  "  I  had 
intended  going  to  a  lawn  fete  that  night;  It  was  on 
Thursday — that  was  the  day  I  always  received  your 
precious  letters ;  but  on  this  clay  none  came,  and  my 
heart  was  by  far  too  sore  and  heavy  to  dance,  laugh, 
and  jest.  I  cried  myself  to  sleep  that  night,  and,  as 
the  hours  wore  on,  such  strange  fancies  filled  my 
mind,  that  perhaps  you  had  ceased  to  love  me." 

Royal  Montague's  handsome  face  grew  pale ;  he 
winced  under  the  words. 

"  What  would  you  do,  Rose,"  he  said,  drawing  the 
slender  figure  toward  him,  and  trying  to  speak  care 
lessly,  "  if  such  a  thing  were  to  really  happen?  " 

He  never  liked  to  remember  the  face  she  raised  to 
him. — the  strange  light  in  the  dark  eyes,  the  pallor 
of  the  laughing  lips. 

"I  should  go  mad,  Royal,"  she  said,  solemnly.  "  I 
.could  not  die  and  leave  the  bright  world  that  held 
you — my  spirit  would  not  leave  it.  I  should  be  like 
the  girl  of  the  story,  who  threw  herself  in  the  sea 
because  her  lover  had  proven  false.  The  blue  waves 
eddying  around  her  laughed  and  sported  with  her. 
They  would  not  bring  the  death  which  she  craved; 
they  tossed  her  out  of  harm's  way  upon  the  white 
sands,  and  there  her  friends  found  her.  She  looked 
up  at  them  with  wild,  dilating,  burning  eyes. 

"*  Heaven  would  not  let  me  die,'  she  said.  'I  have 


86  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

a  mission  to  perform ;  I  am  to  haunt  my  lover.  He 
is  the  sunshine ;  I  will  be  the  shadow.'  No  other  love 
shall  ever  rest  in  his  arms,  smile  under  his  caresses!' 

"  They  looked  into  her  eyes  and  started  back,  tears 
of  silent  pity  springing  to  their  own ;  for  they  saw  that 
she  was  quite  mad — her  false  lover  had  driven  her 
mad !  That  would  be  my  fate,  Royal,  if  you  should 
ever  cease  to  care  for  me." 

"  What  if  death  took  me  from  you,  Rose — you 
would  get  over  your  loss  in  time?"  he  said,  hesitat 
ingly. 

The  lovely  white  arms  crept  around  his  neck ;  the 
beautiful  face  paled,  and  the  dark  head  buried  itself 
upon  his  breast. 

"  If  you  died,  I  would  die  too,  Royal,"  she  said,  with 
a  gasping  sob,  "  When  I  looked  upon  your  face,  cold 
in  death,  my  hear  would  break !  " 

"  How  well  you  must  love  me,  Rose !  "  he  groaned. 

She  laughed  such  a  low,  happy  laugh. 

"  I  could  not  express  how  well  I  love  you,  dear," 
she  said.  "  You  are  my  world  !  " 

The  great  love  she  lavished  upon  him  wearied  him. 
He  could  not  help  contrasting  her  at  that  moment 
with  fair,  sweet  Lillian,  whom  a  bold  wooer  would 
have  frightened,  as  a  huntsman  frightens  a  timid  bird. 

The  evening  passed,  and  he  took  his  leave  with  the 
words  he  had  come  there  to  say  unspoken.  It  would 
have  been  easier  to  plunge  a  dagger  into  the  breast 
of  Rose  Hall  than  utter  the  words  he  had  come  there 
to  say;  they  died  away  unspoken  on  his  lips. 

It  would  be  easier  to  write  the  truth  to  her,  he 
thought.  He  wrote  the  letter,  intending  to  put  it  into 
Rose's  hands,  yet  each  day  his  courage  failed  him 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  87 

when  he  saw  how  completely  the  girl's  heart  had  gone 
out  to  him,  how  she  lived  upon  his  words  and  smiles. 

He  could  realize  but  too  well  the  truth  of  her  words : 
"If  she  were  to  lose  him.  she  would  go  mad,  or  die." 
He  was  beginning  to  see  that  love  would  have  to  be 
sacrificed  on  the  altar  of  duty. 

Looking  forward  through  the  long  years  of  his  fu 
ture,  he  saw  no  gleam  of  brightness  if  he  married  Rose 
Hall.  He  knew  that  he  was  not  the  first  man  who  had 
married  one  girl  while  he  loved  another.  He  had  not 
been  the  first  who  had  gone  through  that  terrible  strug 
gle  between  duty  and  inclination.  Yes,  he  must  marry 
Rose.  His  love  for  sweet  Lillian  Martin  would  be  but 
a  dream  of  the  sweet  possibilities  of  "what  might  have 
been,"  and  he  resolved  to  see  her  never  again. 

Heaven  alone  knew  what  his  resolutions  cost  him, 
how  yearning  impulse  urged  him  to  see  Lillian  just 
once  more,  to  bid  her  farewell.  He  would  have  been 
wise  if  he  had  not  yielded  to  temptation.  He  was 
playing  with  fire. 

"Yes,"  he  told  himself,  with  reckless  despair,  "  he 
would  go  once  again  and  bid  Lillian  good-bye ;  he 
would  take  one  last  look  at  the  face  that  held  all  the 
beauty  of  earth  and  heaven  for  him.  They  allowed  a 
condemned  criminal  to  look  at  the  sun  while  he  could, 
they  allowed  a  dying  man  to  take  a  last  look  at  the 
faces  he  loved.  He  was  going  out  of  her  life  forever; 
if  a  few  moments  in  her  presence  would  be  such  a 
source  of  comfort  to  him,  why  need  he  deprive  himself 
of  it?  Lillian  would  never  know,  when  he  bent  over 
her  little  white  hand  at  parting,  of  the  wild  throbbing 
in  his  heart;  the  gentle  girl  would  never  know 
that  he  could  have  knelt  before  her  and  worshiped  her, 


88  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

and  that,  if  he  had  only  been  free,  he  would  have 
clasped  her  in  his  arms,  begging  her  to  give  him  her 
love,  to  be  his  bride. 

He  promised  himself  that  he  would  go  to  see  Lillian 
the  following  day.  Never  in  his  life  had  the  hours 
dragged  so  slowly.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he 
felt  ill  at  ease. 

On  his  way  down  the  avenue  he  saw  a  stylish  little 
phaeton  approaching  from  an  opposite  direction.  One 
glance  at  the  beautiful  piquant  face  of  the  occupant, 
and  he  saw  that  it  was  Rose.  She  drew  rein  close  to 
the  curb-stone. 

"Oh,  Royal,  is  this  really  you?"  she  cried,  extending 
her  dainty  hand  to  him.  "I  am  so  glad !  You  are  just 
in  time  to  go  shopping  with  me.  I  have  something  to 
tell  you,  Royal,"  she  went  on,  in  a  low,  happy  voice. 

"  My  trousseau  has  arrived  from  Worth's  this  morn 
ing.  My  dress  and  veil  are  marvels  of  beauty.  I  will 
tell  you  about  them  as  we  drive  along." 

''Not  now,  Rose,"  he  exclaimed.  "I  have  a  very 
pressing  engagement.  I  shall  be  up  this  evening  to 
hear  all  about  it." 

Rose  pouted,  but  drove  away  smiling.  A  few  mo- 
ments  later  her  lover,  with  beating  heart,  stood  before 
Lillian's  door,  with  a  pale,  determined  face. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

It  was  a  lovely  June  morning.  Lillian  Martin  sat  at 
her  work,  her  lovely  golden  head  drooping  dejectedly 
over  the  delicate  fan  she  was  decorating. 

The  fair  face  was  paler  than  was  its  wont,  and  the 
blue  eyes  wore  a  troubled  look  in  their  shadowy 
depths.  Deftly  and  patiently  the  little  white  fingers 


PRF/ITY     Ro.-'l-:    HALL  80 

covered  the  delicate  satin  with  gorgeous  designs,  but 
it  was  quite  plain  to  be  seen  that  the  girl's  heart  was 
not  in  her  work. 

tier  Aunt  Hulda  sat  watching  her  in  silence. 

''Lillian!"  she  exclaimed  at  length,  "how  long  is  it 
since  vonng  Mr.  Montague  was  here  last?" 

The  fan  dropped  from  Lillian's  fingers,  and  she  gave 
a  frightened  start. 

1 1' ad  her  aunt  pierced  her  thoughts  that  she  asked 
her  that  question  ? 

She  bent  lower  over  her  work,  and  her  fair  race  grew 
a  shade  paler,  but  she  answered  the  question  quietly 
enough :  "It  will  be  two  weeks  to-morrow  since  he 
called." 

Hulda  Martin  knitted  her  brows  together  in  a  dark 
frown. 

"Do  you  know,  Lillian,"  she  said,  thoughtfully,  "I 
quite  fancied  the  young  man  had  taken  a  liking  to 
you." 

"  Oh.  aunt !  "  cried  the  girl,  bending  her  golden  head 
lower  in  distress ;  "he  only  called  here  out  of  kindness 
to  see  how  you  were  progressing.  Xow  that  you  are 
getting  along  so  nicely " 

'"Pshaw!"  interrupted  Hulda  Martin,  impatiently. 
*'I  know  the  ways  of  men  better  than  you  do,  and  I 
tell  you  when  a  man  comes  as  often  as  young  Royal 
Montague  did,  there  is  something  besides  a  sick  wo 
man  that  attracts  him  ;  but,"  she  went  on,  energetically, 
<4I  find  he  is  like  all  the  rest  of  them,  quick  to  imagine 
himself  in  love,  and  quick  to  cool  off  when  the  glamour 
of  newness  wears  off," 

"Let  us  not  discuss  him,  aunt,"  returned  Lillian,  in 
a  low  voice. 


90  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

"Why  not?"  asked  Hulda,  energetically. 

"Because  he  is  nothing  to  us,"  returned  Lillian,  "and 
we  are  nothing  to  him.  He  has  been  very  kind  to 
us ;  he  will  be  to  us  only  a  pleasant  memory." 

"But  his  coming  made  our  lives  pleasanter,"  per 
sisted  Hulda. 

Lillian  made  no  answer. 

"I  am  quite  sure  he  admired  you,"  continued  Hulda, 
"but  probably  he  has  seen  some  other  face  that  pleases 
him  better;  men  are  like  weather  vanes,  Lillian.  They 
have  their  heads  set  this  way  to-day  and  that  way  to 
morrow." 

The  girl  stretched  out  her  white  hands,  crushing 
back  the  sobbing  cry  that  rose  to  her  lips ;  how  could 
she  bear  it  if  her  aunt  persisted  in  pursuing  this  sub 
ject  much  longer?  Long  weary  hours  of  the  night 
she  had  grieved  because  he  had  come  not,  her  pillow 
was  wet  with  tears  over  a  hope  deferred. 

Mrs.  Hulda  had  no  intention  of  dropping  the  topic. 

"Those  who  trust  to  a  man's  love  might  as  well 
trust  the  fickle  wind.  Never  set  your  heart  on  one  of 
them,  Lillian,  until  you  stand  at  the  altar  with  him," 
she  declared,  emphatically. 

"You  trusted  to  Uncle  Abel's  love,  Aunt  Hulda," 
corrected  gentle  Lillian,  gravely.  "He  was  always  a 
good  husband  to  you/' 

"I  married  him  over  twenty  years  ago,  and  young 
men  were  different  in  those  days.  Then,  if  a  young 
man  took  you  home  from  singing  school,  or  quilting 
bee.  once  or  twice,  you  could  feel  pretty  certain  that  he 
intended  asking  you  to  marry  him  ;  but  now  you  are 
never  sure  of  'em  if  they've  been  beauing  you  around 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL.  91 

a  year.  If  a  prettier  face  crosses  their  path,  or  a 
shrewd  coquette  gets  hold  of  'em,  you're  left !" 

Hulda's  lecture  on  "the  ways  of  young  men  nowa 
days"  had  not  been  appreciated,  it  seemed ;  for,  turning 
round  suddenly  to  see  how  Lillian  had  been  impressed 
by  it,  she  found  that  the  girl  had  quietly  left  the  room. 

Lillian  had  fled  to  the  adjoining  apartment,  and 
catching  up  her  sun  hat,  hastily  donned  it. 

"I  must  go  out  into  t]ie  street,"  she  thought.  "Per 
haps  the  hurrying  throngs  of  people  will  help  me  to  for 
get  him." 

Poor,  patient,  uncomplaining  Lillian !  her  lot  was 
hard  enough  ^before,  without  this  handsome  stranger 
shining  like  the  sun  across  her  path,  and  in  the  setting 
leaving  it  in  sudden  gloom.  Quite  unconsciously  his 
face  had  stolen  into  her  thoughts,  waking  and  sleeping. 
She  had  watched  for  his  coming,  treasured  the  flowers 
he  had  sent  long  after  they  were  withered  and  dead, 
and  the  beautiful,  sweet  poems  seemed  to  voice  his  sen 
timents  toward  her.  The  sudden  discontinuance  of 
his  visits  showed  the  girl  what  life  would  be  without 
him  :  the  future  seemed  dark  and  dreary  enough.  * 

"  Oh,  if  I  only  had  Rose  to  confide  my  pitiful  secret 
to,"  she  thought,  "it  would  not  be  so  hard  to  bear! 
Ah,  where  was  her  beautiful,  darling  Rose?"  she  won 
dered,  gazing  wistfully  and  tearfully  into  the  faces  of 
fair  young  girls  who  passed  her  by.  What  part  of  the 
world  held  the  beautiful  sister  who  had  been  tempted 
from  their  midst  by  her  proud  old  grandmother's  glit 
tering  gold? 

Did  Rose,  her  beautiful,  reckless,  wayward  sister, 
never  sigh  for  her?  were  the  lovely  cheeks  which  had 
been  pressed  so  often  to  her  own  ever  wet  with  silent 


02  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

tears  at  the  thought  of  the  sister  she  had  so  willingly 
deserted? 

"  In  the  midst  of  all  her  pomp  and  splendor,  does  her 
heart  never  crave  my  presence?"  thought  Lillian. 

A  lovely  phaeton  dashed  up  the  avenue  at  that  mo 
ment,  the  dust  from  its  wheels  enveloping  Lillian  in  a 
cloud  as  it  passed  her  by.  The  face  of  the  occupant 
was  turned  from  her,  but  there  was  something  in  the 
proud  poise  of  the  head,  and  the  rich  luster  of  the 
dark  glossy  hair  beneath  the  plumed  hat,  that  re 
minded  her  strangely  of  Rose.  She  brushed  the  dust 
from  her  dress  and  passed  on  with  a  sigh. 

How  little  she  dreamed  that  the  occupant  of  the 
phaeton,  robed  in  shimmering,  costly  silk,  and  adorned 
with  gems  that  cost  a  small  fortune,  was  indeed  Rose. 

If  Rose  had  turned  her  haughty  head  ever  so 
slightly  toward  the  girl  who  passed  by  her  in  the  sim 
ple  straw  hat,  cotton  gloves  and  modest  blue  dress, 
she  could  not  have  failed  to  recognize  Lillian. 

So  engrossed  was  Lillian  with  her  own  thoughts 
she  did  not  see  a  gentleman  approaching  her ;  she  was 
not  aware  of  Royal  Montague's  close  proximity  until 
she  ran  directly  into  his  arms. 

"  Miss   Martin !  "  he   exclaimed   delightedly. 

Lillian  started  back  with  a  cry  of  dismay,  the  hot 
color  rushing  to  her  face  in  a  crimson  tide. 

"  I  am  so  glad  of  this  opportunity  of  talking  with 
you  alone  and  uninterrupted,"  he  said  in  deep  agitation. 
"  I  have  but  just,  ccme  from  your  home;  they  told  me 
you  were  not  in  ;  the  disappointment  was  great." 

The}'  were  standing  opposite  Riverside  Park ;  gently 
but  firmly  he  drew  her  within  the  massive  gates  and 


PRETTY    KOSE    HALL.  93 


seated  her  upon  one  of  the  benches  beneath  a  spread 
ing  oak-tree,  taking  a  seat  by  her  side. 

"  I  came  out  for  a  walk,"  faltered  Lillian ;  "  it  is  not 
often  that  I  can  spare  the  time ;  I  have  been  out  quite 
half  an  hour,  I  must  return  directly  or  Aunt  Hulda 
will  be  worried  about  me!" 

"Do  not  talk  of  leaving  me  just  yet,"  replied  Royal; 
"I  must  have  a  long  talk  with  you." 

He  looked  at  the  girl's  downcast  face  so  fair  in  the 
sunlight,  then  he  noticed  that  the  lovely  cheeks  had  lost 
all  their  color.  He  was  strangely  touched,  and  the 
thought  flitted  through  his  mind : 

"Had  he  been  the  cause  of  it?" 

He  watched  the  play  of  the  lovely  features,  the  light 
in  the  beautiful  eyes — bluer  than  the  hyacinths  that 
blossomed  around  them,  and  he  went  almost  mad  with 
love  and  regret  knowing  that  her  fair  beauty  was  not 
for  him. 

Lillian's  blue  eyes  drooped  still  lower  under  their 
curling  golden  lashes.  What  was  it  that  he  was  so  anx 
ious  to  say  to  her?  the  girl's  heart  throbbed  and  the 
blush  deepened  on  her  face. 

"I  will  tell  you  why  I  called  at  the  house,  Lillian," 
he  said ;  but  instead  of  continuing  he  hesitated 
strangely. 

How  he  longed  to  tell  her  the  story  of  his  life  as  they 
sat  there  together  in  the  sunlit  park ;  tell  her  of  the 
rash  impulse  that  had  caused  him  to  ask  a  young  and 
beautiful  girl  to  marry  him,  because  he  had  discovered 
that  she  was  infatuated  with  him. 

How  he  longed  to  tell  her  that  the  girl  was  beau 
tiful  and  good.  Yet,  that  while  he  lived  he  could  not 
do  more  than  like  her;  that  the  fetters  which  bound 


94  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

§ 

him  he  must  wear ;  for  if  this  girl  lost  him  she  would  go 
mad — or  die  ! 

How  he  longed  to  tell  her  that  she,  whom  he  could 
not  marry,  he  had  learned  to  love  with  a  wild  passion 
ate  worship  that  would  end  only  with  his  life. 

He  remained  silent  so  long  that  Lillian  raised  hef 
blue  eyes  to  his  face  in  timid  wonder. 

She  did  not  know  that  he  was  biting  his  lips, 
clinching  his  hands  to  hold  down  the  hot  passionate 
words  that  seemed  to  spring  to  his  lips. 

Should  he  simply  say  good-bye  and  leave  her,  or 
should  he  avow  his  love?  he  read  love  for  himself  in 
Lillian's  eyes  as  plainly  as  eyes  could  speak. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

With  Lillian's  sweet  face  raised  to  his,  how  could  he  • 
speak  the  words  that  were  to  part  them  for  evermore? 
Royal  Montague  asked  himself  in  deep  distress. 

But  the  words  must  be  spoken ;  the  pain  of  uttering 
them  must  be  endured  and  gotten  over  sooner  or  later. 

"I  will  tell  you  what  I  have  been  trying  to  find  cour 
age  to  say  for  the  last  fortnight — it  is  this,  Lillian — you 
will  let  me  call  you  Lillian  for  the  first  and  last  time; 
I  am  going  away,  and  I  came  to  say  good-bye." 

For  an  instant  the  park,  with  its  green  foliage  and 
waving  trees,  seemed  whirling  around  poor  Lillian  ;  the 
sunshine  blotted  out  from  the  bright  blue  sky,  shroud- 
ing  the  earth  in  impenetrable  gloom. 

Tears  sprung  to  her  blue  eyes,  and  her  lovely  face 
grew  pale  as  a  snow-drop.  She  tried  to  utter  some 
careless  word,  but  no  sound  fell  from  her  lips. 

!rew   closer  to  her — he  was  onlv  human — and 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL.  95 


e  distress  he  read  in  her  face  touched  him  to  the 
heart. 

"You  are  grieved,  Lillian,"  he  said,  "but  you  can  not 
be  more  grieved  than  I.  Let  me  tell  you  why  I  must 
go,  Lillian.  It  is  because  I  have  learned  to  love  you. 
I  should  never  have  let  my  heart  go  out  to  you,  sweet 
Lillian,  for  I  am  engaged  to  be  married  to  another!" 

Ah,  dear  Heaven,  how  the  words  smote  her!  With 
that  one  sentence  the  girl's  loving  heart  had  been  raised 
to  the  gates  of  paradise,  only  to  be  dashed  again  broken 
and  bleeding  to  the  pitiless  earth. 

He  saw  her  raise  her  face  to  the  white  clouds  above, 
and  he  thought  of  the  beauty  of  the  pictured  faces  of 
angels  so  like  hers.  He  did  not  know  that  she  was 
praying  she  might  die  then  and  there. 

How  the  leaves  trembled  in  the  wind;  but  they  did 
not  tremble  more  than  the  girl  who  sat  beside  him,  and 
he  realized  but  too  well  what  might  have  been  had  he 
but  been  free  to  woo  and  win  her. 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to. tell  her  the  truth, 
then  she  would  see  that  he  must  go. 

In  a  low,  hoarse,  despairing  voice  he  told  her  all, 
carefully  suppressing  all  names,  and  the  girl's  face 
paled  to  the  hue  of  death  as  she  listened. 

He  told  her  all,  brokenly,  of  the  mad,  passionate. love 
the  girl  lavished  upon  him,  whom  he  had  promised  to 
make  his  wife. 

"I  gave  her,  in  return,  sympathy  and  friendly  liking, 
Lillian,"  he  went  on,  "but  not  love.  I  never  knew  what 
the  strong,  deep  love  of  a  man  meant  until  I  met  you. 
In  the  hour  that  I  bid  you  farewell,  the  best  part  of  my 
life  dies." 

She  held  up  her  white  hands  with  a  gesture  of  des- 


96  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

pair.    Ah,  would  that  he  had  left  her  in  cold,  unbroken 
silence!  would  that  she  had  never  known  of  his  love 

for  herself! 

t 

He  glanced  around  and  saw  that  they  were  quite 
alone  in  the  green  park.  How  he  longed  to  take  her  in 
his  arms  just  once  and  kiss  the  fair  face,  the  beautiful, 
quivering  lips,  and  the  golden  hair,  that  his  eyes  must 
rest  on  never  again,  unless  he  wished  to  go  mad  with 
pain  and  regret  at  losing  her! 

He  had  told  her  his  story,  yet  she  sat  mute  beside 
him,  speaking  not  a  word. 

"Oh,  Lillian !"  he  cried,  "have  you  no  consolation  to 
offer — no  word  of  comfort  to  say  to  me?" 

"I  hope  your  future  will  he  happier  than  you  now 
think  possible,"  she  said,  faintly. 

"Is  the  pain  of  our  parting  nothing  to  you,  that  you 
can  speak  like  that,  Lillian?"  he  cried,  hoarsely;  "if 
love  ever  shone  in  a  girl's  face,  it  shines  in  yours.  You 
love  me,  Lillian,  even  as  I  love  you." 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  her  blue  eyes  drowned 
in  tears. 

"Hush,  Mr.  Montague.  You  must  remember  honor 
always !  You  are  the  promised  husband  of  another, 
never  mind  what  I  think  or  feel.  You  are  bidding  me 
farewell,  let  no  word  pass  between  us  that  either  will 
regret." 

But  he  could  not  regain  his  composure. 

"Lillian,"  he  cried,  recklessly,  "the  pain  of  giving 
you  up  is  greater  than  I  can  bear,  I  can  not  see  you 
pass  out  of  my  life  like  this.  I  am  tempted  to  clasp  you 
in  my  arms  and  fly  with  you  to — " 

He  stopped  abruptly,  for  her  little  white  hand  was 
laid  firmly  upon  his  arm. 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  97 

"I — I — am  willing  to  say  farewell  to  you  kindly,  Mr. 
Montague,"  she  said,  "but  you  must  not  speak  to  me  in 
that  way." 

He  was  silent.     She  went  on : 

"If  I  have  a  secret,  Mr.  Montague,  you  must  not  try 
to  force  it  from  me,  you  must  respect  it." 

"I  will,"  he  said,  bravely.  He  knew  now  that  she 
loved  him,  but  it  mattered  little,  since  the  knowledge 
came  too  late. 

His  eyes-  lingered  on  her  fair  face.  It  had  never 
appeared  so  beautiful  to  him  ;  the  secret  she  had  locked 
in  her  heart  was  all  told  there ;  the  look  was  on  her 
face  that  only  one  man  ever  brings  to  the  face  of  a 
girl,  and  that  is  the  man  she  loves.  She  might  try  to 
hide  it.  but  he  could  read  her  secret. 

"I  think,"  she  said,  gently,  "that  I  must  go  back.  My 
aunt  will  wonder  at  my  long  absence." 

"Lillian,"  he  said — "forgive  me  if  I  still  use  the  name 
— you  will  never  be  Lillian  to  me  again,  this  is  our 
iarewell,  we  will  never  stand  here  together  again.  I 
am  to  lose  you,  oh,  beautiful  love  that  would  have 
made  life  so  bright  for  me." 

Passionate  yearning  overcame  .prudence.  He  held 
out  his  arms  to  her,  his  face  white  with  emotion. 

"Will  you  let  me  clasp  you  in  my  arms  one  brief 
moment,  Lillian?  Will  you  let  me  kiss  your  sweet 
lips,  just  once?" 

She  drew  back  from  him  with  shy  sweet  grace. 

"Do  not  be  angry  with  me."  she  said.  "I  can  not!" 

He  bowed,  respecting  the  derision  of  her  pure  heart. 

"Any  man  may  safely  place  his  honor  in  her  hands," 
he  thought. 

He  could   not   help   contrasting  the   differences  be- 


98  PRETTY    ROSE   HALL. 

tween  these  two  girls  who  loved  him.  Rose,  impulsive, 
loving  Rose  would  have  twined  her  white  arms,  unbid 
den,  around  his  neck,  pressed  her  dusk  cheek  to  his, 
murmuring  over  and  over  again  how  she  loved  him, 
and  the  pain  that  parting  with  him  cost  her;  but  this 
one,  fair  Lillian,  with  a  face  as  pure  and  sweet  as  an 
angel's,  could  never  have  caressed  him,  she  was  too 
shy  and  modest  for  unmaidenly  demonstration ;  she 
would  not  kiss  him,  loving  him  as  dearly  as  she  did, 
even  though  he  was  passing  out  of  her  life  and  her 
love,  forever. 

He  respected  and  reverenced  Lillian  all  the  more  for 
ir. 

"Good-bye,  Mr.  Montague,"  said  Lillian,  holding  out 
her  little  hand  to  him.  There  were  tears  in  her  eyes 
and  in  her  voice. 

"Must  it  be  good-bye?"  he  asked,  a  feeling  of  despair 
stealing  over  him,  as  he  took  her  white  hand  and  held 
it,  longing  to  weep  over  it. 

"Yes  ;  you  have  asked  another  to  wed  you  before  you 
met  me,  and  as  a\man  of  honor  you  must  be  true  to  her, 
and  forget  that  you  and  I  have  ever  met." 

What  would  she  have  said  or  thought  if  she  had: 
known  that  this  strange  girl's  fate  which  it  was  in  her 
power  to  wreck  was  Rose,  the  sister  who  had  deserted; 
her? 

Oh.  if  Royal  had  but  told  her!  but,  alas!  before  Lil 
lian  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  even  mention  the 
name  of  her  rival,  Rose  Hall. 

"You  will  at  least  permit  me  to  get  a  carriage  to  tak< 
you  home?"  he  said.  "Do  not  refuse.  Sitting  by  youi 
side  for  a  few  brief  moments  will  be  a  great  consolation 
to  me." 


In  silence 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  09 


.n  silence  they  rode  through  the  sunlit  streets  to 
gether,  and  in  silence  he  handed  her  out  of  the  coach 
and  turned  away,  Lillian  to  take  up  her  weary  burden 
agam,  toiling  for  a  meager  pittance,  Royal  Montague 
to  fulfill  the  vows  that  weighed  him  down  like  chains. 
For  both  of  them  the  present  was  full  of  misery  and  the 
future  all  dark. 

He  felt  like  a  traitor  when  he  found  himself  in  the 
parlor  of  Rose's  home  that  evening,  awaiting  her  com 
ing.  He  would  certainly  have  stayed  away  if  he  had 
not  promised  her  that  he  would  surely  be  with  her 
that  evening. 

She  came  into  the  parlor  a  vision  of  dazzling  loveli 
ness,  greeting  him  in  her  usual  caressing  fashion;  and 
the  love  in  her  face  might  have  melted  a  heart  of 
marble. 

Rose  Hall's  glorious  face  and  dark,  radiant  eyes,  as 
they  fell  upon  her  lover's  face,  would  have  immortal 
ized  an  artist  if  he  could  have  transferred  them  to  can 
vas.  Love  literally  transfigured  her. 

The  soft  crimson  glow  of  the  chandelier  fell  upon  a 
startlingly  lovely  picture ;  yet  Royal  Montague's  eyes 
never  brightened  as  they  rested  upon  it. 

A  prince  might  have  been  proud  to  woo  and  win 
beautiful  Rose  Hall,  with  her  wondrous  dower  of 
beauty,  for  his  bride.  She  would  have  charmed  any 
man  with  her  divine  loveliness.  Perhaps,  out  of  the 
whole  wide  world,  this  man  who  was  to  marry  her  was 
the  only  one  who  could  have  looked  upon  her  without 
emotion. 

A  sense  of  the  cruel  wrong  that  a  loveless  marriage 
would  be  to  her  came  over  Royal ;  but  it  could  not  be 
helped.  He  well  knew  that,  if  he  were  to  tell  her  the 


100  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  x 

truth,  she  would  either  fall  dead  at  his  feet  or  go  mad. 
No,  he,  dare  not  tell  her.  He  had  often  heard  and  read 
of  the  idolatrous  love  of  women,  but  surely  there  never 
was  sucti  a  fatal,  unfortunate,  pathetic  love  as  that 
which  filled  the  heart  of  beautiful  Rose  Hall. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

With  a  heavy  heart  Lillian  took  up  the  tangled 
thread  of  life ;  with  a  weariness  of  spirit  too  great  for 
words. 

Royal  Montague  was  gone — he  had  passed  out  of  her 
life  forever;  nothing  could  pain  her  after  that. 

She  went  on  with  her  work  patiently  as  ever — but 
her  fair  face  had  lost  its  bloom ;  the  beautiful  blue  eyes 
were  losing  their  light. 

Even  Hulda  Martin  noticed  how  the  girl  was  failing. 

Lillian  had  told  her  aunt  that  Mr.  Montague  had  bid 
den  her  farewell — that  he  was  going  away;  but  what 
else  he  had  said  was  buried  in  her  own  sore  troubled 
heart. 

Dainty  ladies  who  paid  fabulous  prices  at  one  of  the 
great  art  emporiums  for  the  decorated  fans  that  passed 
through  Lillian's  fingers,  never  dreamed  of  the  sad: 
face  that  had  bent  over  the  golden  cupids  among  the 
passion  roses,  and  that  bitter  tears  were  wept  over 
them. 

In  this  world  trouble  seldom  comes  singly.  Hulda 
Martin's  health  had  long  since  been  failing,  and  Lil 
lian's  slender  earnings  barely  kept  the  gaunt  hand 
of  want  from  the  door  after  the  doctor's  bills  were 
paid. 

One  day  matters  came  to  a  climax ;  while  Lillian  sal 
at  her  work  and  while  the  sun  shone  into  the  meagerlj 


PRETTV    ROSE    HALL.  101 

furnished  rooms,  fallingly  lovingly  upun  the  golden 
locks  of  one  and  the  snow-white  hair  of  the  other, 
Hulda  Martin  passed  quietly  away ;  and  with  her  died 
all  knowledge  of  Rose's  whereabouts,  for  in  her  anger 
she  had  destroyed  every  trace  by  which  she  could  bn 
found. 

She  died  as  she  had  lived — with  che  n^me  of  Rose 
upon  her  lips;  Rose  whom  she  had  llw?ys  lo\  3d  be?l 
despite  Lillian's  heroic  devotion,  but 'even  in  death 'sivs 
could  not  forgive  the  girl  who  had  deserted  her  for 
wealth  and  power. 

To  describe  poor  Lillian's  heart-rending  grief  whei* 
she  raised  her  head  to  speak  to  her  aunt,  and  realize*! 
what  the  gray  pallor  on  that  loved  face  meant  is  to*» 
pitiful. 

How    she    wept   over   her,    kissing   the    death-cold 
hands,    crying  out  that  Heaven  could  not  have  been  so 
cruel  to  her  as  to  take  away  the  only  being  who  loved 
her,  leaving  her  alone  and  friendless  in  the  great,  harsb 
pitiless  world. 

It  was  well  that  she  sunk  down  in  utter  uncon-* 
sciousness,  and  that  her  wandering  senses  did  not  re 
turn  to  her  as  she  tossed  upon  a  bed  of  delirium,  until 
a  week  after  all  that  was  left  of  poor  Hulda  Martin 
had  been  laid  to  rest. 

The  irate  landlady's  anger  at  this  state  of  affairs 
knew  no  bounds. 

"Goodness  gracious!"  she  cried,  poking  through  her 
tenants'  trunks  to  see  if  there  was  anything  valuable 
in  them ;  "it  was  bad  enough  to  have  that  woman  die 
and  cheat  me  out  of  a  month's  rent  without  that  girl 
falling  sick  on  my  hands.  Dear  me,  it  will  be  a  lesson 
to  me  never  to  take  in  lone 


102  PRETTY    ROSE    I! ALL. 


She  heard  a  slight  sound,  and  turning  hastily  about 
with  arms  akimbo,  beheld  Lillian  standing  in  the  door 
way. 

"Mrs.  McDermot!"  cried  the  girl  aghast;  "what  are 
you  doing?" 

The  woman's  face  turned  a  dull  red. 

"I'm  looking  to  see  what  you've  got  that's  worth 
sejling  10  pay  iny  rent  with,  and  all  that  I  can  find 
is  a  coral  necklace  set  with  a  rose-pearl  at  the  clasp." 

In  a  moment  Lillian  had  sprung  across  the  room  and 
flung  herself  on  her  knees  before  the  irate  woman. 

"Oh,  do  not  touch  that !"  she  cried :  "it  is  all  that  I 
have  left  that  once  belonged  to  a  loved  and  lost  sister. 
Oh,  dear  madam,  I  pray  you,  I  beseech  you  to  give  it 
back  to  me ;  it  once  belonged  to  my  darling  Rose.  A 
hundred  times  I  have  seen  it  around  her  beautiful  neck 
she  has  held  it  in  her  dear  hands — gold  could  not  buy 
it  from  me,  I  prize  it  so !" 

"'Gold  will  buy  it  from  me,"  retorted  the  stolid  wo-  ] 
man,  grimly.  "Do  you  see  that  red  flag  out  of  the 
window?  If  you  don't  know  what  it  means,  I  will 
tell  you.  It  means  that  within  an  hour  your  whole  be 
longings  are  to  be  auctioned  off  to  pay  me  the  month's 
rent  you  and  your  aunt  owe  me,  and  I  reckon  they 
won't  fetch  half  the  amount." 

Lillian's  face  paled  to  a  dead  white.     Sell  the  chair? 
her  aunt  had  loved,  had  sat  in,  and  had  died 'in!    Sell 
the  few  little  articles  they  had  brought  from  the  old 
lighthouse  home,  and  which  she  held  so  dear?  Oh,  no, 
no,  no ! 

"Beggars    can't   be    choosers,"   went   on    the    hard-^ 
hearted  woman  ;  "you're  lucky  to  be  allowed  to  keep  on 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  103 

the  clothes  you're  wearing,  together  with  that  cloak 
and  fine  hat  of  yours." 

"Let  me  keep  the  necklace,  and  you  can  have  all  the 
rest,"  sobbed  Lillian ;  "it  would  break  my  heart  to 
part  with  that." 

A  harsh,  coarse  laugh  answered  her  as  the  woman 
slipped  the  coral  necklace  into  the  depths  of  her  pocket. 

"  My  claim  conies  in  first,  you'll  find,"  she  said.  "  If 
you  can  raise  the  money  to  pay  me  before  the  auction 
eer  commences,  all  well  and  good;  if  not,  don't 
grumble.  I'll  leave  you  to  your  own  reflections  until 
then;  and  she  left  the  room,  closing  the  door  after 
her  with  a  resounding  bang. 

Lillian  flung  herself  down  by  the  open  window,  weep, 
ing  the  bitterest  tears  that  ever  fell  from  a  girl's  eyes. 

She  had  been  such  a  good,  dutiful  girl  all  her  life — 
ah!  why  had  Heaven  shut  her  out  from  its  mercy? 

At  that  moment  a  grand  coach  rolled  leisurely  up  the 
street,  its  trappings  of  burnished  gold  glittering  in  the 
morning  sunlight.  Its  occupant,  robed  in  costly  silk 
and  fine  white  lace,  leaned  back  among  her  crimson- 
satin  cushions  with  a  contented  smile. 

What  was  it  that  broke  in  upon  her  rosy  day-dreams? 
It  sounded  strangely  like  the  cry  of  a  woman  in  keen 
distress.  Rose  Hall  looked  anxiously  about  her.  She 
saw  the  open  window  from  which  the  ominous  red 
flag  protruded,  and  it  seemed  to  be  in  that  direction 
from  which  the  pitiful  moans  proceeded. 

"  James,"  exclaimed  the  beauty  imperiously,  "  I 
thought  I  heard  the  sound  of  weeping ;  draw  up  to 
the  curb-stone  and  learn  the  cause,  if  you  can." 

The  coachman  laughed,  and  nodded  toward  the  rod 
banner  waving  in  the  breeze. 


104  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

"I  guess  that's  the  cause  of  it,"  he  said. 

Rose  Hall  looked  at  him  haughtily. 

"  I  did  not  ask  your  opinion  in  the  matter ;  I  said 
'  Go  and  learn  the  cause,  if  you  can.'  " 

The  man  jumped  down  from  his  box  and  disappeared 
within  the  doorway.  A  few  moments  later  he  re 
turned. 

"It's  just  as  I  told  you,  miss.  There's  to  be  an  auc 
tion—a  landlady  is  going  to  sell  a  young  girl's  belong 
ings  because  she  can't  pay  her  rent." 

The  beautiful  face  of  Rose  Hall  looked  thoughtful. 

"Did  you  find  out  how  much  the  amount  was, 
James?" 

"Yes,  miss — twenty  dollars,  the  landlady  said." 

The  heart  of  beautiful,  impulsive  Rose  Hall  was 
touched  to  think  there  should  be  sorrow  in  this  beauti 
ful  world  for  the  sake  of  twenty  dollars.  Why,  the  very 
rug  beneath  her  feet  cost  ten  times  that  amount ;  the 
fan  that  lay  by  her  side,  double  that  sum ! 

She  drew  forth  her  purse  at  once  and  counted  out 
five  crisp  twenty-dollar  notes. 

"Hand  that  to  the  young  girl,"  she  said.  "Tell  her; 
if  she  needs  work  she  can  call  at  No. —  Lexington 

Avenue.     We  can  surely  find   some  employment  for| 

i       " 
her. 

The  man  executed  his  errand  quickly,  mounted  his^ 
box,  and  was  soon  proceeding  on  his  way  to  Central  ; 
Park. 

Rose  leaned  back  among  the  cushions,  contrasting 
her  lot  with  that  of  other  girls.     Ah,  how  happy  she  j 
was !  Heaven  had  given  her  the  desire  of  her  heart— e| 
the  love  that  was  more  to  her  than  life  itself. 

he  rode  alone:  the  sunlit  streets,  she  quite  forgot-; 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  105 

the  little  incident  of  the  girl  she  had  befriended.  The 
chances  were  she  would  never  have  thought  of  it  again 
if  it  had  not  been  brought  back  to  her  memory  in  a 
strange  manner. 

Meanwhile  Lillian  sat  dumb  and  stupefied  at  the 
strange  move  on  the  chess-board  of  fate. 

She  had  paid  the  amazed  landlady;  the  terrible  flag 
had  been  taken  down,  and  the  coral  necklace  had  been 
returned  to  her. 

''Of  course,  dearie,  I  intended  to  return  the  necklace 
to  you  all  the  time,"  declared  Mrs.  McDermot,  flushing 
guiltily.  "A  keepsake's  a  keepsake,  and  I  know  what 
store  people  do  set  by  'em ;  and  I'd  like  right  well  to 
have  you  stay  and  keep  these  rooms,  Miss  Lillian," 
she  went  on,  in  that  tone  of  cajoling  flattery  which  is 
so  offensive,  "for  if  I  do  say  it  to  your  face,  I  never  had 
a  tenant  that  I  took  to  as  I  did  to  you." 

"I  may  stay  for  the  present,  Mrs.  McDermot,"  said 
Lillian,  drearily. 

The  woman's  face  was  beaming  with  smiles. 

"  It'll  be  like  home  to  you,  dearie.  I'll  come  and  sit 
by  you  while  you  color  your  fans  with  the  red  roses. 
By  the  way,  I  guess  I'll  get  you  a  good  warm  dinner 
now.  You  look  kind  of  faint." 

T  shall  be  glad  if  you  would  do  so,"  replied  Lillian. 
"  I  will  pay  you  what  you  think  is  right  for  it." 

"  Pay  vie!  "  reiterated  Mrs.  McDermot,  in  a  high  key. 
"Do  you  think  I'd  accept  money  for  doing  you  a  trifling 
favor  like  that?  I'm  only  too  glad  to  serve  you.  If  you 
want  anything  that  I  can  get  for  you,  dearie,  don't  be 
afraid  to  call  on  me  for  it." 

And  she  bustled  out  of  Lillian's  room,  her  broad, 
florid  face  wreathed  in  smiles.  She  was  mentallv  cal- 


106  J'liKTTV    ROSE    IIAI.L. 

culating  how  long  the  remaining  eighty  dollars  would 
be  likely  to  last  the  girl. 

Ah,  well,  there  are  a  good  many  Mrs.  McDermot's 
in  this  world  of  ours.  That  was  the  first  real  glimpse 
poor  Lillian  had  of  the  power  of  gold. 

Long  after  the  woman  had  left  her,  Lillian  sat  alone 
with  the  bills  in  her  lap. 

"I  can  not  accept  this  gift  from  the  hands  of  a 
stranger,"  she  told  herself.  She  arose  and  resolutely 
tied  on  her  modest  straiv  hat.  "I  must  return  the  re 
mainder,  and  I  shall  never  rest  until  I  pay  in  full  the 
amount  I  have  been  obliged  to  borrow." 

She  remembered  the  number  the  man  had  given  her, 
and  remembered  the  words  he  had  uttered  as  he  handed 
her  the  roll  of  bills:  "This  is  from  a  young  lady  who 
wishes  you  well." 

"I  must  see  her,"  Lillian  promised  herself. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Lillian  soon  found  the  street  and  number  indicated, 
and  with  some  little  trepidation  ascended  the  broad 
marble  steps,  and  timidly  rang  the  bell. 

It  was  James  who  answered  the  summons.  He 
stared  in  undisguised  amazement  when  he  found  who  it 
was  that  was  standing  there,  and  learned  that  she 
wished  to  see  personally  the  young  girl  who  had  so 
generously  befriended  her  that  morning. 

He  shook  his  head  stolidly. 

"It  wouldn't  be  of  any  use  to  try  to  see  her  now," 
he  declared. 

"I  would-not  detain  her  five  minutes,"  pleaded  Lil 
lian,  in  her  sweet,  clear  voice. 

Still  he  shook  his  head. 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  107 

"The  young  lady  is  busy  looking  over  her  wedding 
finery,"  he  said.  "Not  more  than  half  an  hour  ago  she 
told  me :  'remember  if  any  one  calls  to-day  I  am  not 
"at  home"  to  them,  no  matter  who  it  is,'  those  are  the 
exact  words." 

''I  am  so  sorry,"  said  Lillian,  plaintively. 

At  that  moment  Rose  Hall  was  passing  through  the 
corridor,  and  the  words  fell  upon  her  ear. 

What  was  there  in  that  girlish  voice  that  sent  such 
a  strange  thrill  through  her  heart?  Involuntarily  she 
paused. 

''Who  is  it  at  the  door,  James?  and  what  does  she 
wain?"  asked  Rose,  as  she  gathered  up  her  silken 
train  in  her  slender,  jeweled  hand. 

"It's  the  young  girl  you  sent  the  money  to  this 
morning,  she  wants  to  see  you,  ma'am.  I  told  her  you 
wouldn't/* 

Rose  cut  short  his  remark  with  an  impatient  gest 
ure.  ' 

"Show  her  into  the  drawing-room.  I  will  see  her 
. 'directly." 

The  servant  stared.  He  looked  helplessly  at  the 
girl's  thick  walking  boots,  not  altogether  free  from  the 
dust  of  the  pavement,  then  at  the  delicate  Axminster 
carpet,  muttering  something  about  the  servant's  hall 
being  a  more  fit  place  to  show  her  into. 

Miss  Rose,  however,  had  signified  the  desire  that  she 
be  shown  into  the  drawing-room.  Therefore,  into  that 
spacious  apartment  he  conducted  her. 

"What  a  beautiful  home,"  thought  the  girl,  glancing 
wistfully  about  her.  "How  happy  any  girl  ought  to 
be  surrounded  by  such  luxury." 

Then  it  occurred  to  her  that  somewhere  in  the  great 


108  PRETTY     UOSK    HALT,. 

wide  world,  her  sister  Rose  was  enjoying  just  such 
comforts,  and  after  all  she  could  not  blame  beautiful 
willful  Rose  for  yearning  for  the  luxuries  of  wealth, 
in  preference  to  the  weary  life  they  led  at  the  old 
light-house. 

Ah,  how  restful  the  beautiful  shadowy  room  seemed, 
with  its  magnificent  adornings,  to  poor  tired  Lillian. 

She  heard  the  rustle  of  a  silken  robe — the  next  mo 
ment  the  velvet  hangings  were  pushed  aside  by  a 
white  jeweled  hand,  and  Rose  Hall  swept  into  the 
drawing-room. 

"You  wished  to  see  me,  my  good  girl,"  she  said, 
crossing  over  to  where  the  slender  girlish  figure  sat. 
"What  can  I  do  for  you?" 

Lillian  started  to  her  feet  with  a  low  cry.  At  the 
first  vibration  of  that  proud,  mellow  voice,  she  hat1, 
recognized  Rose.. 

The  shock  of  intense  surprise  and  joy  had  been  too 
much  for  Lillian,  and  with  that  low  cry  on  her  lips,  she 
threw  up  her  white  hands  and  fell  at  her  sister's  feet 
in  a  deathly  swoon. 

Rose's  recognition  of  Lillian  had  been  almost  instan 
taneous — with  a  piercing  cry  she  sprung  forward — a 
cry  that  brought  the  servants  quickly  to  the  scene. 

"It  is  Lilly!"  she  cried,  dashing  the  heavy  curtains 
aside,  and  the  warm,  invigorating  sunshine  flooded 
the  room,  falling  upon  the  sweet,  white  upturned  face ; 
and  in  an  instant  she  had  raised  the  slender  form  from 
the  floor,  covering  the  pallid  face  and  golden  hair  with 
kisses  and  tears. 

When  Lillian  opened  her  blue,  wondering  eyes,  the 
first  object  they  rested  upon  was  Rose's  beautiful, 
anxious  face  bent  lovingly  over  her ;  her  golden  head 


109 


was   pillowed   upon   Rose's   breast,   her   arms   clasped 
about  her. 

Mutual  explanations  speedily  followed.  Great  was 
Rose's  emotion  when  she  learned  that  her  Aunt  Hulda 
was -dead,  that  she  had  brought  Lillian  to  New  York, 
never  telling  her  that  she  was  so  near  her  sister  Rose, 
and  that  she  had  destroyed  all  clews  by  which  Lillian 
might  have  traced  and  found  her.  Even  in  the  hour  of 
her  death  Rose  knew  that  her  aunt  had  not  forgiven 
her,  else  she  would  have  sent  for  her,  knowing  she  was 
so  near. 

And,  clasping  Lillian  still  closer  in  her  arms,  she  told 
her  how  she  had  written  regularly  home  to  them ;  but 
the  letters,  with  money  inclosed,  that  she  had  sent, 
were  returned  unopened,  with  the  words  written  across 
the  face  of  the  envelope,  "  You  are  as  one  dead  to  us 
foreverrnore ;"  and,  lastly,  of  the  few  lines  that  had 
come  to  her  one  day,  the  first  and  last  Hulda  ever 
wrote  her,  and  which  ran  as  follows : 

"I  write  to  tell  you,  Rose,  that  your  Uncle  Abel  is 
no  more.  I  have  given  up  the  lighthouse,  and  shall 
take  Lillian  away  with  me.  It  will  not  interest  one  who 
has  deserted  us  to  know  where  we  go.  The  world  is 
wide.  We  shall  never  meet  again." 

All  Rose's  efforts  to  trace  them  had  been  futile,  and 
,all  hope  that  she  would  ever  meet  her  stern,  unforgiv 
ing  aunt  and  her  sister  had  begun  to  die. 

There  was  one  thing  Rose  dare  not  reveal  even  yet, 
and  that  was,  the  true  reason  that  had  caused  her  to  fly 
so  precipitately  and  in  such  abject  terror  from  home. 
Even  now  she  could  not  tell  Lillian  the  story  of  that 
mad  marriage  that  had  so  nearly  wrecked  her  young 


110  PRETTY    ROSE    I  [ALL. 

life,  and  how  Heaven  had  delivered  her  from  the  fruits 
of  her  folly. 

An  hour  later,  when  Rose  led  her  timid,  fair-haired 
sister  to  their  proud  old  grandmother,  explaining  to 
her  how  pitifully  she  had  been  cast  adrift  on  the  world, 
and  pleading  with  her  to  take  Lillian  to  her  heart  and 
home,  the  grand  old  lady  could  not  well  refuse. 

'*  You  did  not  like  my  poor  young  mother,  whose 
only  fault  was  in  loving  your  son,  grandma,"  said  Lil 
lian,  humbly.  "  I  look  at  you  with  her  eyes,  I  speak 
to  you  with  her  voice,  her  face  is  reflected  in  mine.  I 
can  well  understand  that  for  that  reason  you  will  not 
try  to  love  me.  Yet  for  my  father's  sake,  if  not  for 
my  own,  I  hope  your  heart  may  soften  toward  me  a 
little,  and  in  time  you  may  think  more  kindly  of  her. 
It  was  God's  will  that  she  should  love  him.  God  di 
rects  the  love  of  human  hearts ;  the  will  of  mortals 
must  bend  to  it." 

There  came  a  day  when  Rose  Hall  remembered  those 
words  with  a  pang  at  her  heart  more  bitter  than  death. 

They  settled  it  that  Rose  and  Lillian  should  not  be 
parted,  and  that  henceforth  Lillian  should  take  up  her 
residence  with  her  grandmother. 

Lillian  might  be  all  that  was  sweet  and  good,  but 
the  grand  old  lady  told  herself  that  she  should  always 
love  Rose  best. 

Yet.  after  all,  it  might  be  as  well  that  Lillian  had 
come  to  her,  for  when  Rose  married  Royal  and  went 
far  away  from  her,  her  heart  would  indeed  be  lonely. 
Lillian  would  be  a  great  comfort  to  her  then.  Thus 
it  happened  that  Lillian  never  returned  to  Mrs.  Mc- 
Dermot's.  She  was  to  occupy  Celia  Derwent's  room 
for  the  present — Celia  having  preferred  to  remain  at 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  Ill 

Linden  Villa,  not  caring  to  come  to  New  York  with 
Rose  and  her  aunt  to  enjoy  the  usual  festivities  of  the 
metropolis.  The  truth  of  the  matter  was,  however, 
she  could  not  endure  remaining  anywhere  near  the  en 
gaged  lovers,  Royal  and  Rose;  she  could  not  have 
answered  for  herself  had  she  been  obliged  to  look  on 
and  witness  Rose's  happiness. 

"Lilly,"  said  Rose,  blushing  hotly,  when  the  two  girls 
found  themselves  alone  after  their  interview  with  Mrs. 
Hall,  "when  you  are  sufficiently  rested  I  want  you  to 
come  to  my  room.  I — I  have  a  secret  to  tell  you,  and 
some  very  beautiful  things  to  show  you." 

Then  it  occurred  to  Lillian  like  a  flash  the  words 
the  servant  had  uttered  at  the  door:  "The  young  lady 
is  looking  over  her  wedding  finery  which  has  just  ar 
rived  ;  she  would  not  wish  me  to  call  her." 

"Oh,  Rose,  dear,"  she  cried,  earnestly,  taking  the 
beautiful  face  in  her  white  hands,  and  looking  down 
into  the  glorious  dark  eyes,  "I  know  what  your  secret 
is — you  are  going  to  be  married !"  And  she  told  her 
how  she  had  learned  of  it. 

"Yes,  I  am  going  to  be  married,  Lilly,"  said  the  girl, 
her  voice  thrilling  with  tenderness,  "and  the  one  whom 
I  have  chosen  is  a  king  among  men !  My  heart  went  out 
to  him  from  the  moment  we  first  met." 

"How  well  you  love  this  hero  of  yours,  dear!"  said 
unconscious  Lillian,  looking  fondly  into  the  face  up 
turned  to  hers. 

"Love  him!"  repeated  Rose.  "Ah,  Lillian,  you  will 
never  know  how  dearly  I  love  him  whose  bride  I  am 
soon  to  be.  My  whole  life  is  merged  into  his.  Do  you 
remember  how  Juliet  suffered  death  for  Romeo?  I 
jvould  do  the  same  for  my  love.  Waking  or  sleeping  I 


112  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

am  always  thinking  of  him,  Lilly — even  -in  crowds  I 
see  no  other  face ;  it  smiles  in  my  dreams,  it  shines 
down  upon  me  from  the  blue  sky,  it  looks  up  to  me 
from  laughing-  waters,  it  lies  in  the  leaves  of  flowers 
I  bend  over,  in  the  pages  of  books,  in  the  light  of  the 
sun,  in  the  beams  of  the  moon ;  there  is  no  spot  in  the 
wide  world  where  I  do  not  see  it.  If  my  love  were 
to  die,  I  would  fall  dead  or  go  mad  when  the  news 
reached  me !" 

Lillian  looked  at  her  beautiful  sister  with  tears  in 
her  blue  eyes. 

"  Oh,  Rose,  my  darling,"  she  cried  in  distress,  "  is 
it  well  to  love  any  one  so  much'  as  that  ?" 

Rose  laid  her  beautiful  head  with  its  wealth  of  dark 
curls  upon  Lillian's  shoulder. 

''You  might  stop  the  waves  of  the  mighty  ocean  from 
rolling,  bid  the  sun  and  stars  not  to  shine,  and  all 
would  be  more  easily  done  than  my  love  could  be 
changed  or  lessened!" 

"  There  is  one  thing  you  have  forgotten,  Rose, 
darling,"  said  Lillian  gently,  "  you  have  not  told  me 
your  lover's  name."  • 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Rose  leaned  her  beautiful  dark  head  on  Lillian's 
shoulder,  and  smiled  as  her  sister  repeated  with  eager 
curiosity : 

"You  have  forgotten  to  tell  me  your  lover's  name, 
Rose." 

Tf  Rose  had  but  answered  "  Royal  Montague,"  a 
most  pitiful  tragedy  would  have  been  averted ;  fate 
itself  must  have  dictated  her  answer. 

"  I  shall  neither  tell  vou  his  name  nor  describe  him 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  113 

to  you,  Lillian.  We  are  to  have  a  musical?  this  evening, 
he  is  among  the  invited  guests  that  will  be  present.  I 
want  to  see  if  your  keen  intuition  will  select  from 
among  them  the  one  to  whom  I  have  given  my  heart.'' 

Lillian  drew  back  in  dismay. 

"I  shall  not  come  down  to  your  nmsicale,  Rose,  dear. 
I  know  so  little  of  social  life  and  its  requirements,  you 
— you — you  would  be  ashamed  of  me.  I  should  be  like 
a  field  daisy  among  a  conservatory  of  gorgeous  tropical 
blooms — no,  no — I  will  not  be  present." 

Rose  laughed  gayly. 

"Be  natural,  dear,  and  you  will  be  simply  perfect/' 
she  said ;  "besides,  I  am  very  anxious  to  present  my 
fair-haired  sister  to  my  friends." 

In  vain  Lillian  protested.    Rose  was  firm. 

"You  may  meet  your  fate  this  evening,  Lilly,  it 
would  not  be  right  to  shut  yourself  u*jl  in  your  room 
and  mis^  the  pleasures  of  mingling  in  a  gay  and  bril 
liant  throng.  Despite  your  extreme  shyness,  I  predict 
you  will  be  a  great  favorite  with  the  young  gentlemen 
— you  will  have  many  admirers." 

"  Don't  Rose,  don't !  "  cried  Lillian,  faintly.  "  I  can 
not  bear  it." 

Rose  looked  at  the  white  face  upraised  to  her  own, 
in  wonder,  she  quite  believed  it  was  Lillian's  timidity 
that  prompted  the  words. 

A  sudden  impulse  came  to  Lillian  to  tell  Rose  of  that 
sad  dream  of  love  that  had  flitted  like  a  meteor  over 
her  path  only  to  leave  it  more  desolate  than  before,  but 
the  impulse  died  away  and  the  words  were  left  un 
spoken.  There  was  no  need  to  cloud  Rose's  beautiful 
face  with  sadness  by  the  recital  of  that  love  story, 
that  had  such  a  sad,  sad  ending. 


114  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

Lillian  quite  made  up  her  mind  to  never  mention  the 
name  of  Royal  Montague.  That  would  certainly  be 
the  most  effectual  way  of  lessening  the  pain  the 
temembrance  of  him  gave  her. 

Rose  wrote  a  hurried  little  note  to  Royal  that  after 
noon,  closing  with  these  words : 

''Come  early  this  evening,  dear,  fully  an  hour  in  ad 
vance  of  the  other  guests.  I  have  a  charming  surprise 
in  store  for  you." 

Rose  was  looking  her  best  when  Royal  presented 
himself  that  evening;  she  welcomed  him  in  a  manner 
that  would  have  been  delightfully  pleasing  to  a  less 
cold-hearted  lover. 

"I  shall  not  introduce  him  to  Lillian  in  the  usual 
way,'"  she  thought,  with  a  mischievous  smile;  "her 
meeting  with  her  future  brother-in-law  must  be  more 
romantic." 

She  had  seen  Lillian  pass  into  the  drawing-room  half 
an  hour  before,  and  she  knew  she  would  be  sure  to  be 
found  in  her  favorite  nook  among  the  flowers  in  the 
bay-window. 

"Royal,"  she  said,  looking  up  into  his  face  with 
twinkling  eyes,  "why  do  you  not  ask  me  what  the  sur 
prise  is  I  have  in  store  for  you?  Yon  don't  seem  par 
ticularly  interested  in  it,"  she  pouted. 

"I  have  been  more  than  anxious  to  know,  but  re 
frained  from  appearing  inquisitive,"  replied  Royal,  care 
lessly. 

"It  is  a  rare  and  beautiful  lily,"  she  answered,  look-  j 
ing  up  at  him  demurely ;  "it  is  in  the  drawing-room 
•window.    Come,  we  will  admire  its  fairness  together." 

They  were  moving  across  the  corridor  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  drawing-room,  and  at  that  eventful  moment 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL.  115 

a  servant  came  for  Miss  Rose  with  the  message  that 
she  was  wanted  immediately  in  Mrs.  Hall's  boudoir. 

"Wait  till  I  return,"  she  said,  dropping  Royal's  arm ; 
but  the  moments  passed,  and  she  came  not,  and  me 
chanically  Royal  entered  the  drawing-room  alone, 
crossed  the  room  to  the  bay-window,  and,  all  uncon 
scious  of  the  terrible  shock  in  store  for  him,  carelessly 
lifted  the  crimson  velvet  hangings. 

A  fair-haired  young  girl  sat  in  a  large  velvet  chair  by 
the  window,  her  face  buried  in  her  little  white  hands. 

What  was  there  about  that  silent,  white-robed,  girl 
ish  figure  that  stirred  the  blood  in  his  veins  like  wine, 
and  caused  his  heart  to  beat  with  such  great,  startling 
throbs  ? 

"I  beg  your  pardon  for  this  intrusion,"  said  Royal. 
"I  was  unaware  that  any  one  was  here." 

The  girl  lifted  her  golden  head  with  a  low  cry,  and 
the  white,  mellow  light  of  the  chandelier  fell  full  upon 
her  death-like,  agitated  face. 

"  Royal ! — Mr.  Montague !  "  she  gasped,  in  dismay. 

"  Lillian,  my  darling !  "  he  cried,  hoarsely ;  and,  be 
fore  she  could  divine  his  intention,  and  before  he  him 
self  thought  of  the  consequences,  he  had  caught  the 
girl  in  his  arms,  holding  her  close  to  his  heart,  cover 
ing  her  face,  her  hands,  and  her  beautiful  golden  hair 
with  yearning,  passionate  kisses. 

The  little  white  hands  pushed  him  from  her  with 
quiet,  firm  dignity. 

"  You  have  forgotten  our  compact,  Mr.  Montague," 
she  said,  sadly,  "  and  that  was.  if  we  ever  met  again 
it  was  to  be  as  strangers.  What  are  you  doing 
here?" 

The  question  brought  him  to  his  senses  with  a  ter- 


116  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

rible  shock,  as  nothing  else  in  the  wide  world  would 
have  done.  Up  to  that  moment,  in  the  intense  sur 
prise  of  meeting  her  whom  he  loved  so  well  and  so 
hopelessly,  •  he  had  quite  forgotten  that  he  was  in 
Rose's  home — Rose,  whom  he  was  so  soon  to  wed ! 

lie  took  the  little  white  hands  in  his  own  with  deep 
agitation. 

"  Before  I  answer  you,  tell  me  what  you  are  doing 
here,  Lillian?  I  did  not  even  know  that  you  knew 
Rose  Hall." 

A  lovely  smile  broke  over  the  fair  girl's  face.  Sud 
denly  it  changed  to  the  pallor  of  death,  and  there  was 
an  agony  of  fear  in  the  blue  eyes  raised  to  his  own. 
She  remembered  Rose  had  told  her  that  her  lover 
was  coming  an  hour  in  advance  of  the  other  guests. 
Heaven  be  merciful !  surely  Royal  Montague  could 
not  be  he? 

"What  is  Rose  Hall  to  you,  Royal?"  she  asked, 
in  a  whisper  so  low  he  barely  caught  it. 

His  answer  was  more  cruel  than  death. 

"  Rose  Hall  is  the  one  who  has  come  between  you 
and  me  Lillian — the  girl  whom  I  am  fated  to  marry, 
but  whom  I  can  never  love — the  girl  whom  I  am  to 
give  my  name,  but  who  can  never  possess  my  heart, 
for  it  has  gone  out  to  yon,  Lillian,"  he  answered,  bit 
terly ;  "but  tell  me,  Lillian,  what  are  you  doing  here, 
of  all  places  in  the  world?" 

"Rose's  lover — you  are  Rose's  lover!"  moaned 
poor  Lillian,  with  the  bitterest,  wailing  cry  that  ever 
fell  from  human  lips.  "  Heaven  pity  me!  Heaven  pity 
my  beautiful  hapless  Rose!  It  is  my  beautiful,  un 
fortunate  Rose,  then,  who  loves  you  so  de.irlv  she 
would  die  or  go  mad  if  she  were  to  lose  yon."  she: 


PRETTY    ROSK    HALL.  117 

cried,  incoherently,  wringing-  her  hands  in   the   most 
oitiful  anguish. 

"  Lillian!"  cried  Royal  Montague,  "what  can  your 
words  mean?  tell  me,  Lillian,"  lie  entreated,  "what 
you  are  doing  here  in  Rose  H-'iilV  home?" 

He  attempted  to  take  her  hand,  but  she  shrunk  back 
from  him.  A  low  moan  broke  from  her  lips,  and  sh'i 
fell  back  into  his  arms  in  a  deadly  swoon. 

At  that  moment  Rose  came  hurriedly  into  the 
drawing-room,  and  the  sight  that  met  her  gaze,  Lil 
lian,  lying  in  Royal  Montague's  arms  in  a  dead  faint, 
brought  a  cry  of  dismay  to  her  lips.  In  an  ins  tan fc 
she  had  gained  his  side. 

''What  is  the  matter  with  Lilly?"  she  cried  in  af 
fright.  "Oh,  Royal,  what  is  the  matter  with  Lilly?* 

"  I  invaded  her  retreat  inadvertently,  and  fright* 
ened  her,  I  fear,"  he  answered,  hating  himself  for  the 
excuse  he  wc  obliged  to  o^er.  *'  Who  is  this  young 
girl.  Rose?"  he  asked,  laying  the  still  form  down 
upon  the  divan,  and  giving  her  in  charge  of  the  house 
keeper,  who  had  been  hastily  summoned. 

It  was  strange  that  the  keen  eyes  of  love  did  not 
notice  the  extreme  pallor  of  his  face,  and  how  he  bent 
over  the  couch  where  Lillian  lay,  even  though  he  had 
no  excuse  to  linger.  It  was  strange  that  she  did  not 
notice  the  huskiness  of  the  voice  that  asked  the  ques 
tion  : 

"  Who  is  this  young  girl?" 

The  answer  that  fell  from  Rose's  lips  was  like  the 
shock  of  doom,  to  the  unhappy  young  man. 

"  I  meant  to  tell  you  before,  that  the  lily  we  should 
find  in  the  curtained  recess  of  the  bay-window,  was 


118  PKETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

my  sister  Lillian,  to  whom  I  was  about  to  introduce 
you." 


'Your  sister! 

If  the  words  had  been  shrieked  out  trumpet- 
tongued  upon  the  air,  they  could  not  have  affected 
Royal  Montague  more.  He  reeled  back  as  though  he 
had  been  struck  a  heavy  blow.  He  tried  to  speak, 
but  the  words  froze  on  his  lips. 

He  understood  the  cause  of  Lillian's  emotions  now, 
and  why  she  had  fainted  when  he  had  admitted  that 
Rose  claimed  his  love,  and  that  she  was  his  promised 
bride. 

"  You  are  surprised,  Royal,  to  learn  that  I  have  a 
sister.  I  have  never  mentioned  her  to  you  before. 
Come  into  the  conservatory  and  I  will  tell  you  about 
her." 

Mechanically  he  followed  her,  and  he  listened,  like 
one  stricken  dumb,  to  the  story  she  told  him  of  her 
sister  Lillian  and  herself,  and  their  life  at  the  old 
light-house ;  how  contented  Lillian  had  been,  but 
how  she  hated  it  and  prayed  for  deliverance,  for  life 
in  the  great  world  beyond,  for  brightness  and  joy  such 
as  filled  the  lives  of  other  girls,  and  how  deliverance 
had  come  to  her  in  the  shape  of  her  grandmother's 
visit,  and  the  offer  she  had  made  to  raise  Lillian  and 
herself  from  the  depths  of  obscurity  and  poverty  to 
dazzling  wealth. 

Sitting  there  among  the  gorgeous  odorous  blooms 
she  told  him  all  of  her  eventful  story — all  save  one 
shadowed  chapter,  and  that  one  she  told  herself  she 
never  Avould  reveal — the  dark  mystery  that  enveloped 
that  last  week  at  Her  island  home  died  with  the  death 
of  Osric  Lawrence. 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Never  was  a  man  caught  in  such  a  web  by  the  mach 
inations  of  fate  as  was  Royal  Montague. 

He  realized  his  exact  position  with  a  horror  words 
are  weak  in  portraying  as  he  sat  by  Rose's  side  lis 
tening  to  her  story. 

She  had  told  him  how  bitterly  angry  her  Aunt 
Hulda  Martin  had  been  when  she  had  told  them  she 
had  decided  to  accept  her  grandmother's  offer,  and 
how  her  aunt  had  solemnly  declared  that  she  should 
be  as  one  dead  to  them  if  she  left  home,  and  how 
Hulda  Martin  had  carried  out  her  threat  when  Abel 
died  by  taking  Lillian  away  from  their  island  home, 
carefully  covering  up  all  traces  of  where  they  had 
gone,  even  going  so  far  as  to  insist  upon  Lillian  being 
called  by  her  name,  and  at  her  aunt's  death  how 
strangely  Providence  had  thrown  the  two  sisters  to 
gether. 

"It  sounds  like  a  romance,  does  it  not,  Royal?" 
she  asked,  clasping  her  white  hands  together  on  his 
arm,  and  looking  up  into  his  face  with  her  dark, 
bright  eyes.  "You  must  love  Lilly  very  dearly  for 
my  sake." 

She  never  knew  how  the  words  tortured  him. 

"  I  should  like  to  have  Lilly  come  and  live  with  us 
after  \ve  are  married,  Royal,"  she  pursued,  nestling 
closer  to  him.  "  I  fear  it  would  not  be  for  long,  how 
ever,  for  some  fortunate  lover  would  be  sure  to  steal 
her  away  from  us  soon." 

Royal  Montague  tore  his  arm  almost  rudely  from 
the  clasp  of  Rose's  little  white  hand  upon  which  his" 
engagement  ring  glowed  and  burned  like  a  star  of 
fire.  He  could  not  endure  even  the  mention  that  the 


120  PRETTY     ROSE    HALL. 

girl  whom  he  loved  better  than  his  own  life  and 
whom  he  knew  loved  him  should  ever  look  with  favor 
upon  any  lover.  The  thought  maddened  him  almost 
beyond  endurance.  He  felt  now  more  keenly  than 
ever  how  impossible  it  would  be  to  tell  Rose  that  he 
and  Lillian  had  met  before.  How  could  he  tell  Rose 
that  she  had  spoiled  Lillian's  life  and  wrecked  his? 

How  could  he  endure  playing  the  part  of  Rose's 
lover  if  Lillian  stood  near?  He  could  never  act  such 
a  living  lie.  Lillian's  presence  would  drive  him  mad. 
He  knew  how  much  Lillian  would  suffer  as  well,  and 
the  complication  of  matters  fairly  alarmed  him. 

Royal  Montague  never  spent  a  more  miserable 
evening.  Even  his  friends  noticed  how  distrait  he  was 
and  rallied  him  upon  it.  Rose  looked  at  him  with 
grieved  eyes.  He  had  scarcely  spoken  to  her  the 
whole  evening.  His  hands  touched  hers  with  no  lov 
ing  pressure,  and  he  had  the  air  of  a  man  annoyed 
bevond  endurance  when  by  chance  he  found  himself 
alone  with  her. 

Lillian  had  not  made  her  appearance  again  that 
evening,  pleading  a  severe  headache.  In  vain  Royal 
watched  for  her  coming. 

"  I  must  see  her  if  but  for  a  moment/'  he  told  him 
self,  yet  how  he  was  to  accomplish  it  he  hardly  knew. 

Suddenly  a  brilliant  idea  occurred  to  him. 

Stepping  into  the  conservatory  he  gathered  a  small - 
bund!  of  hyacinths,  and  tearing  a  leaf  from  his  mem 
oranda  hastily  penciV."  the  following  note: 

Lillian    1   nm  !  u  in  the  conservatory  before 

1  le-'-ve.  Coine,  if  l.ut  f«-r  a  moment,  within  half  an 
hour.  I  shall  watch  and  wait  for  you." 

He  slipped  the  note  among  the  fragrant  blossoms, 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  121 


122  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

saw   the   dark   figure   among   the   palms,   and   hastily 
made  his  way  to  her  side. 

"  Lilly !  "  he  said,  gently  touching  one  of  the  little 
white  hands  that  lay  upon  the  broad,  green  leaves. 
*'  Nay,  you  need  not  shrink  from  me,  Lillian ;  I  am 
not  going  to  pain  you  by  passionate  words  of  love. 
I  shall  crush  the  impulse  that  bids  me  take  you  in 
my  arms  and  fold  you  to  my  heart.  I  know  all  of 
your  past,  Lillian;  Rose  has  told  me;  you  are  her 
sister.  And  now,  I  ask  of  you,  what  are  we  to  do? 
Oh,  Lillian,"  he  cried,  "  how  am  I  to  bear  meeting 
you,  seeing  you  daily,  without  showing  what  is  in 
my  heart  ?  " 

"  Yet  that  is  what  must  be  done,"  said  Lillian 
gravely.  "  T  would  go  away,  but  that  would  not  mend  - 
matters ;  we  should  be  obliged  to  meet  often  in  the 
future ;  it  could  not  be  avoided ;  and  we  may  as  well 
school  ourselves  to  it  first  as  last.  There  must  be  no 
appointments,  no  more  meetings,  between  us,"  she 
went  on  hurriedly;  "  and  I  pray  you,  by  the  love  you 
bear  me,  be  kind  to  Rose.  Let  the  past  be  a  dead 
letter  between  us.  We  will  take  up  our  lives  from 
to-nicrht.  Rose  must  never'  know,"  she  continued. 

-o 

"  If  she  even  suspected  that  you  had  ever  loved  an-J 
other,  the  knowledge  would  kill  her." 

Before  he  could  frame  a  reply  Lillian  had  flitted! 
away.  The  next  moment  he  realized  why  she  hadl 
left  him  so  suddenly — she  had  observed  Rose  ap-J 
preaching  from  the  opposite  end  of  the  conservatory.,! 

Rose  soon  discovered  him  standing  among  the  mag-  ; 
nolia  blooms.  His  face  did  not  flush  as  she  came  uplj 
to  him.  He  did  not  turn  his  handsome  head  toward! 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL.  123 

her  and  offer  to  caress  her  although  they  were  quite 
alone  together. 

"  Royal,"  she  said,  laying  her  cool  white  hand  on 
his,  "  why  have  you  been  away  from  the  parlors  so 
long?  My  guests  are  beginning  to  miss  you.  I  have 
been  searching  for  you  for  the  last  hour." 

"So  long  as  that?"  he  asked,  with  a  guilty  flush, 
"  why  it  did  not  seem  to  me  that  I  had  been  standing 
here  five  minutes." 

She  took  the  little  hand  quickly  away  that  she 
had  laid  so  caressingly  on  his  and  looked  at  him. 

He  was  so  completely  absorbed  in  his  own  thoughts 
he  never  even  noticed  the  action. 

Was  the  strange  fancy  that  had  taken  possession  of 
her  really  true  then?  Was  his  heart  growing  cold 
toward  her? 

Once  during  the  evening  she  had  heard  a  remark 
that  had  not  been  intended  for  her  ears.  It  had  been 
uttered  by  the  laughing,  rosy  lips  of  a  young  girl ; 
but  it  had  awakened  a  strange  unrest  in  the  heart  of 
Rose  Hall  and  puzzled  her. 

Two  girls  had  been  standing  by  a  vase  of  exotics 
and  while  they  were  admiring  them  Royal  Montague 
passed  them. 

The  fair-haired  blonde  turned  to  her  companion  with' 
a  meaning  smile,  remarking  slowly: 

"  Did  you  ever  see  a  person  change  so  strangely  as 
Royal  Montague  has  within  the  last  few  weeks?  He 
does  not  look  like  a  happy  man,  even  when  his  fiancee 
is  beside  him.  I  should  not  fancy  so  cold  a  lover." 

Rose  had  been  standing  near,  conversing  with  a 
guest ;  yet,  by  chance,  every  syllable  of  the  low-spoken 


124 


words  reached  her  and  opened  her  eyes  to  the  exist 
ing  state  of  affairs. 

Was  it  possible  that  she  had  all  the  outward  form 
of  Royal's  love,  but  not  the  reality?  She  would  watch 
him  carefully  and  see  for  herself  if  there  was  a  shadow 
on  his  face  which  her  presence  would  not  chase  away. 
She  would  make  a  study  of  it.  She  would  watch  other 
engaged  lovers  and  see  if  Royal's  actions  differed 
from  theirs. 

She  looked  anxiously  around  the  room.    He  was  not 

there,  neither  was  he  in  the  drawing-room  or  library. 

• 

There  wTas   a  puzzled  look  of  wonder  on  her  face 
when   she   glanced   into   the   conservatory   and   found' 
him    there,   looking   so   pale,   dejected   and    miserable 
among  the  blooms. 

Yes,  they  were  quite  right.     The  face  upon  which 
.she  gazed  had  certainly   more  of  pain  than  pleasure  : 
stamped  upon  it.    Was  he  ill  or  unhappy? 

The  evening  passed  at  length.  The  guests  took^ 
their  leave,  and,  as  was  his  usual  custom,  Royal  lin 
gered  till  the  last.  He  tried  to  put  as  much  warmth \ 
as  possible  into  his  parting  with  Rose.  He  felt  likej 
a  traitor  when  he  bent  his  head  and  mechanically! 
kissed  the  dark,  glowing  face  raised  to  his  own  as  hej 
said  good-night. 

Rose  watched  him  out  of  sight,  her  beautiful  dark" 

t 

eyes  heavy  with  tears. 

"  Yes,  he  loves  me."  she  murmured.  "  How  foolish 
I  am  to  doubt  him.  Some  lovers  are  more  demonstra-' 
tive  than  others,  that  is  all." 

Slowly  Rose  quitted  the  brilliantly  lighted  parlor, 
going  at  once  to  Lillian's  room,  and  pausing  before 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  12& 

the  door  was  startled  at  the  sound  of  passionate  weep 
ing.     She  turned  the  knob  gently  and  entered. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Rose  paused  hesitatingly  at  the  threshold  of  Lilly's 
room. 

"  It  must  have  been  my  morbid  imagination,  fancy 
ing  that  I  heard  the  sound  of  suppressed  sobbing — 
it  must  have  been  the  moaning  of  the  wind  among  the 
trees,"  she  told  herself. 

Lillian  sat  by  the  open  window,  her  fair  head  sup 
ported  by  her  white  arms,  which  rested  upon  the 
broad  sill.  She  looked  wearily  up  as  her  lovely  young 
sister  entered  the  room. 

"  Oh,  Lilly,"  she  cried,  flinging  herself  down  upon 
the  velvet  hassock  at  her  feet,  and  looking  up  into 
the  sad  blue  eyes,  "  how  stupid  of  me  to  expose  you 
to  such  a  fright  as  I  did  to-night.  I  meant  your  meet 
ing  with  Royal  to  be  very  romantic.  I  told  him  I  had 
a  beautiful  lily  to  show  him  in  the  alcove  of  the  draw 
ing-room.  At  that  moment  I  was  suddenly  called 
away.  I  can  understand  how  his  sudden  appearance  be 
fore  you  must  have  frightened  you,  and  you  fainted. 
He  quite  supposed  I  had  intended  to  show  him  a 
calla  lily.  My  little  joke  had  a  very  stupid  ending, 
for  Royal  has  not  been  himself  all  evening." 

"I  was  only  a  little  nervous,"  confessed  Lillian, 
confusedly.  "I — I  should  not  have  allowed  myself  to 
become  so  startled  at  the  sudden  appearance  of — " 

Rose  put  her  hand  over  Lillian's  lips. 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  going  to  finish  your  sentence 
by  calling  Royal  a  stranger.  But,  now  that  you  have 
seen  mv  lover,  tell  me  what  you  think  of  him.  Is 


)  '_'0  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

he  not  as  handsome  as  a  prince?  Is  he  not  the  noblest 
man  you  have  ever  met,  Lilly? — a  king  among  men, 
whom  any  girl  might  have  been  proud  to  win?" 

The  dark,  bright  eyes  were  looking  into  her  own 
so  intently;  how  should  she  answer  her?  Lillian  was 
distressed  beyond  measure. 

"  You  forget  that  I  had  but  a  glimpse  of  your  hero  \ 
in  the  drawing-room,"  she  stammered,  and  the  sound 
of  her  voice  was  unnatural  and  constrained. 

1  Tell  me  one  thing,  Lilly :  even  in  that  glimpse  you  \ 
had  of  him,  were  you  pleased  with  my  choice?" 

"  I  am  always  pleased  with  any  one  you  love,  Rose," 
was  the  evasive  reply,  as  she  clasped  her  lovely  sister 
in  her  arms,  and  covered  her  face  with  passionate 
kisses  and  tears. 

"  I  do  not  know.  Lilly,  which  of  you  love  me  better] 
— you  or  Royal." 

"  Heaven  help  her !  "  thought  Lillian,  in  the  keenest  i 
distress.    Rose  loved  him  so  well,  while  every  throb  of 
his  heart  was  for  another.     Not  for  worlds  would  she 
have  Rose  ever  suspect  it. 

Fair,  gentle  Lillian  was  no  tragedy  queen v  With  I 
her,  to  lose  her  lover  was  to  bow  to  the  decree  off 
Heaven,  praying  for  strength  to  bear  it.  Her  life 
might  be  spoiled,  her  hopes  wrecked,  but  she  would  I 
live  on  and  never  complain ;  no  matter  how  her  heart! 
was  wrung,  she  would  suffer  in  silence. 

With  beautiful,  passionate  Rose  the  loss  of  her  lover J 
would  mean  death. 

An  hour  or  more  the  two  lovely  sisters  sat  together  | 
in  the  moonlight,  Rose  discussing,  with  eager,  girlish] 
abandon,  her  approaching  marriage,  and  where  Royal! 
was  to  take  her  on  their  bridal  tour  to  spend  thej 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  127 

honey-moon,  little  dreaming  that  each  word  she  ut 
tered  was  like  the  thrust  of  a  sharp  sword  to  the  pale, 
silent  girl  who  sat  by  her  side. 

That  night,  when  Lillian  had  found  herself  alone, 
the  hopeless,  miserable  girl  fell  upon  her  knees,  hid 
ing  her  white  face  in  her  trembling  hands.  "  How 
am  I  to  bear  it?  "  she  cried  "  How  can  I  live  througk 
it?  "  The  future  would  be  a  trying  ordeal  to  her,  but 
she  must  not  shrink  from  facing  it,  she  told  herself. 

Early  the  next  afternoon  Rose's  lover  presented 
himself  at  her  home.  How  his  beart  beat  as  he  was 
shown  into  the  drawing-room ! 

He  heard  Rose's  gay,  laughing  voice  outside  on  the 
terrace.  "  Was  Lillian  with  her?"  he  wondered. 

Mrs.  Hall  sat  before  the  open  French  window.  She 
looked  up  with  a  smile  as  Royal  entered.  Holding 
out  her  jeweled  hand  to  him,  "  I  am  glad  to  see  you, 
Royal,"  she  said,  in  pleased  surprise.  "  It  is  not  often 
that  you  favor  us  with  an  afternoon  call.  The  girls 
;will  be  in  presently." 

The  grand  old  lady  languidly  touched  a  silver  bell 
beside  her,  and  the  servant  who  answered  it  was  dis 
patched  at  once  in  search  of  the  young  ladies. 

Royal  walked  over  to  the  window.  He  longed  to 
quit  the  room ;  he  felt  he  could  not  meet  his  lost  love 
then  and  there. 

His  thoughts  were  of  Lillian,  the  girl  from  whom  he 
had  parted,  yet  whom  fate  had  placed  again  in  his 
path  when  he  was  striving  so  manfully  to  forget  her. 
Great  Heaven !  how  he  must  have  loved  her !  His 
I  heart  was  beating  so  quickly  that  he  could  hardly. 
I  breathe;  a  very  fever  of  expectation  ran  hot  in  his 


128  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

veins ;  a  mist  of  tears  spread  before  his  eyes  and  shut 
out  the  whole  world  from  him. 

Presently  he  heard  the  sound  of  approaching  foot 
steps.  Never  did  a  man  utter  a  more  vehement,  pas 
sionate  prayer  for  strength  and  calmness  than  he. 

The  light,  dancing  footsteps  drew  nearer.  Rose 
pushed  aside  the  lace  draperies  of  the  long  French 
window  and  entered,  closely  followed  by  another 
figure,  and  he  knew  he  was  in  the  presence  of  both 
sisters. 

He  had  a  confused  remembrance  afterward  of  Rose's 
tender  greeting.  "  Royal,"  she  said,  leading  her  sis 
ter  up  to  him,  "  I  want  to  introduce  you  to  my  sis- 

3 

With  a  desperate  effort  he  raised  his  head,  murmur 
ing  a  few  inarticulate  words,  and  looked  at  the  two 
beautiful  girls  standing  before  him — first  at  her  whom 
he  had  loved  and  lost — fair,  golden  haired  Lillian,  at 
whose  feet  he  would ^have  laid  his  life — the  only  girl 
who  had  ever  stirred  his  soul  with  the  fire  and  fever 
and  ecstasy  of  passionate  love. 

Her  eyes  did  not  meet  his;  no  word  fell  from  her 
lips.  She  acknowledged  the  introduction  by  a  simple 
graceful  bow. 

Then  his  eyes  wandered  to  the  face  of  the  brilliant, 
beautiful  girl  by  her  side,  who  was  looking  up  at  hint 
with  the  light  of  love  in  her  proud  dark  eyes. 

You   two,  whom   I   love   so  well,   shall   not  greet 
each  other  so  formally,"  Rose  declared,  with  a 
happy  laugh,  and  before  either  of  them  had  time  tq|; 
divine'  her  intention  she  had  clasped  their  hands 
gether. 

Royal  bowed  and  turned  away,  not  daring  to  lool 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL. 

upon  Lillian's  face  until  he  had  regained  his  compos 
ure.    It  was  a  trying  ordeal  for  both  of  them. 

Lillian  crossed  to  the  other  side  of  the  room  and 
sat  down  by  Mrs.  Hall,  leaving  Rose  and  Royal  stand 
ing  by  the  lace-draped  window  together. 

"They  are  very  happy  lovers,  are  they  not,  my 
dear?"  whispered  Mrs.  Hall,  with  a  pleased  smile. 
r<  It  is  so  pleasant  to  see  a  regular  love-match.  Do 
you  notice  how  fond  Rose  is  of  her  handsome  lover? 
And  no  wonder !  " 

Lillian's  eyes  turned  slowly  in  their  direction.  She 
saw  nothing  but  the  tall,  dark  figure  turned  from  the. 
light. 

Rose  had  been  talking  to  him  in  her  gay,  charming 
fashion. 

"  Royal,"  she  said,  at  length,  "  what  are  you  look 
ing  at  so  intently?  I  am  sure  you  can  see  nothing 
from  the  window;  it  is  quite  dark." 

Then  he  spoke  and  the  sound  of  his  voice  pierced 
Lillian's  heart  with  pain,  it  was  freighted  with  such 
despair. 

"  I  was  looking  at  nothing*  in  particular,  Rose.  I 
was  merely  thinking/' 

"  You  seem  to  be  given  to  fits  of  abstraction  of 
laic."  declared  Rose,  pouting  her  pretty  crimson  lips, 
"  and  I  do  not  like  it." 

She  was  a  little  disappointed,  too,  that  Royal  had 
not  been  a  little  warmer  in  his  manner  toward  Lillian. 

At  last  the  dinner-bell  rang,  and  it  was  quite  a 
relief  to  Lillian  to  escape  from  the  drawing-room. 

the  table.  Royal  spoke  to  her  sister  but  seldom, 
and  it  was  always  with  averted  eyes,  Rose  noticed. 

41  lie  does  not  like  fair-haired  girls,"  thought  Rose, 


- 
130  PRETTY    ROSE   HALL. 


regretfully.     "  No  doubt  he  would  have  been  better 
pleased  with  Lilly  if  she  had  been  dark  like  I  am." 

At  the  moment  that  thought  was  in  Rose's  mind 
Royal  Montague  was  saying  to  himself: 

"  How  many  hours  of  this  torture  will  there  be  to 
pass,  I  wonder?  What,  in  Heaven's  name,  shall  I  do 
with  my  life,  if  I  find  one  day  so  hard  to  bear?" 

Once  he  met  the  calm  glance  of  Lillian's  blue  eyes, 
and  the  cup  he  held  in  his  hand  nearly  fell  from  his 
grasp.  The  blood  ran  like  fire  through  his  veins; 
every  nerve  and  pulse  thrilled  with  the  sense  of  her 
presence;  yet  he  must  sit  there  as  the  happy  lover  of 
Rose — smile,  talk,  and  jest  unconcernedly,  while  his 
heart  sank  in  his  bosom. 

He  did  not  know  that  life  could  hold  such  torture. 

After  tea  there  was  music  in  the  parlor ;  friends 
dropped  in,  and  they  had  quite  a  little  impromptu 
party,  but  through  the  evening  Royal  and  Lillian 
seemed  to  avoid  each  other  more  than  ever. 

"  It  is  a  pity  that  Royal  and  Lillian  seem  to  hav 
taken  such  a  decided  dislike  to  each  other,"  thoughl 
Rose,  watching  them  wonderingly.  How  little  sh< 
dreamed  that  at  that  moment  Royal  was  trying  tc 
trample  down  the  mad  impulse  to  go  over  to  when 
Lillian  sat  and  implore  her  to  fly  with  him,  and  no' 
to  wreck  both  of  their  lives  in  this  mad  fashion,  foi 
he  would  not  give  her  up — he  could  not. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

The    days    flew    quickly   by;    Lillian,    who    by   her 

grandmother's  request  had  assumed  the  family  name 

of  Hall  again,  had  been  quite  a  month  in  her  new 

home. 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL.  131 

Royal  and  Lillian  met  constantly,  yet  there  was  an 
imperceptible  something  in  their  manner  toward  each, 
other,  a  mutual  avoidance,  that  must  have  struck  any 
one  who  watched  them  keenly. 

It  was  seldom,  either  in  conversation  or  in  ihe  ex 
change  of  common  courtesies-  that  Lillian  raised  her 
eyes  to  Royal's  face;  their  hands  never  touched  even 
in  most  common  greeting;  a  formal  bow  was  the 
most  that  passed  between  them. 

In  conforming  to  this  line  of  conduct  they  were 
wise ;  they  had  cared  far  too  much  for  each  other :  had 
loved  each  other  too  well  to  allow  of  any  intimate 
friendship.  Both  of  them  understood  that  it  was  much 
easier  to  fly  from  temptation  than  it  was  to  encounter 
it. 

There  was  no  middle  course  for  them,  and  they 
knew  it. 

Never  was  there  a  more  patient,  generous  rival  than 
Lillian.  All  the  repressed  love  of  her  nature  she 
showered  upon  beautiful,  capricious  Rose. 

No  matter  what  she  suffered,  it  was  like  balm  to 
her  soul  to  know  that  her  darling  Rose  was  happy. 

"  He  will  learn  to  love  Rose  in  time,"  she  thought, 

for  a  great  love  will  always  win  love  sooner  or  later 
in  return  !  " 

She  watched  with  wistful,  yearning  tenderness,  the 
smiles  that  rippled  over  Rose's  bonny,  beautiful  face: 
she  was  pleased  when  people  spoke  of  her  as  being; 
superbly  lovely ;  few  thought  of  her  save  to  notice 
how  pale  and  thin  she  was  growing.  One  morning 
Rose  and  Lillian  were  together  in  the  library  when 
Royal  entered.  Lillian  was  busy  writing  letter*.  r\ 
restless  as  a  butterfly,  sat  in  a  great  cushioned  arm- 


132  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

chair  with  a  book  in  her  hand,  but  the  dark  dreamy 
eyes  were  not  resting  on  the  page  before  her;  she 
was  indulging  in  rosy  day-dreams  of  the  future. 

"I  arn  so  glad  you  are  come,  Royal,"  she  said 
brightly.  "  I  am  rinding  it  so  dull  this  beautiful 
sunshiny  morning;  Lillian  is  anything  but  companion 
able,  and  sitting  here  listening  to  the  scratch,  scratch, 
scratching  of  her  pen  on  the  paper,  is  anything  but  en 
livening." 

Royal  murmured  some  unintelligible  reply,  and  at 
that  moment  one  of  the  servants  put  her  head  in  at 
the  door  asking  if  Miss  Rose  would  please  see  the 
florist  a  moment;  he  had  called  to  consult  her  per 
sonally  in  reference  to  the  flowers  she  had  ordered  for 
the  ball  that  evening. 

"I  should  like  to  consult  your  taste,  Royal,  in  the' 
flowers  I  am  to  wear,"  said  Rose,  pausing  before  her 
lover's  chair ;  "of  all  the  odorous  blooms,  which  r.re 
your   choice — roses,   pansies,   hyacinths,   carnations?" 

"  Lilies  are  my  choice,"  he  said  absently. 
,  "Then  lilies  it  shall  be,"-  declared  Rose,  dancing  out  J 
of  the  room  with  a  gay  laugh.  "  I  shall  dress  like  a] 
water-nymph  in  pale  sea-green,  with  water-lilies  bind- i 
ing  up  my  long,  dark  hair,"  she  said,  tripping  joy?] 
ously  away. 

Royal  Montague  and  Lillian  Hall  were  alone  to-rj 
gether  for  the  first  time.  Lillian  never  raised  her! 
head,  she  went  on  writing  rapidly,  hoping,  praying  inj 
her  heart  that  he  would  not  speak  to  her. 

Silently  Royal  Montague  sat  watching  her,  the  con-j 
tour  of  the  golden  head,  the  beautiful,  slender  white, 
hands  as  they  rested  on  the  half-written  pacre,  the- 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL.  133 

white  lids  and  golden  lashes  that  hid  the  blue  eyes 
from  his^sight. 

Ah,  if  for  once — if  only  for  once  he  could  go  and 
kneel  before  her;  if  he  could  but  lavish  on  her  the 
love  that  filled  his  heart — if  he  might  for  just  a  few 
moments  talk  to  her  on  the  old  terms !  Then  he 
reproached  himself  for  being  weak. 

The  lovely  golden  head  was  bent  in  graceful  dig 
nity,  which  could  never  be  bridged  over,  over  her 
letter.  The  moments  lengthened  themselves  into  half 
a  hour,  yet  Lillian  never  raised  her  head,  she  never 
once  glanced  toward  the  end  of  the  room  where  Royal 
sat. 

An  amused,  saucy  laugh  from  the  door-way  aroused 
both  of  them.  Royal  turned  abruptly  around  in  his 
chair  and  Lillian  glanced  up  from  her  letter. 

It  was  Rose ;  she  stood  in  the  door-way  looking 
from  one  to  the  other  in  merry  amusement. 

"  I  have  been  standing  here  /for  some  time  watching 
you  two,"  she  said,  "  and  I  declare  neither  of  you 
moved.  I  do  not  believe  you  have  exchanged  one. 
.word  since  I  left  you." 

"  I  am  quite  sure  we  have  not,"  admitted  Royal ; 
"  your  sister  Lillian  has  been  writing.  I  assure  you 
that  I  was  silent  simply  because  I  was  afraid  of  dis 
turbing  her.  If  she  had  shown  the  least  desire  to 
talk  I  should  have  been  very  pleased." 

"  I  quite  appreciated  your  silence,  Mr.  Montague," 
returned  Lillian,  with  great  dignity.  "  I  was  in  haste 
to  finish  my  letter  in  time  for  the  morning  mail,"  and 
rising  calmly,  she  quitted  the  room,  and'all  the  light 
and  sunshine  of  the  summer  day  seemed  to  Royal 
Montague  to  go  with  her. 


134  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

That  afternoon  when  Lillian  sat  alone  in  her  own 
room,  Rose  entered  silently  behind  her,  and  a  moment 
later  two  white  arms  stole  round  her  neck,  and  a  pair 
of  rosy  lips  were  pressed  to  her  own. 

"  Lilly/'  she  cried,  "  I  have  come  to  give  you  a  little 
scolding  which  you  deserve  very  much." 

"  You  must  contrive  to  look  a  little  less  smiling-, 
then,  if  I  am  to  remember  that  it  is  really  a 
scolding.  Rose,"  she  said,  laying  down  the  bit  of 
embroidery  she  held  in  her  hands,  and  gazing  into 
the  lovely,  laughing,  dimpled  face  bent  over  her. 

"  It  is  about  Royal,"  said  Rose,  hesitatingly.     Lil 
lian   gave   a   violent   start,   her   face   flushed   crimson, 
then  died  away  leaving  it  paler  than  before.     "  Yes, 
it  was  about  Royal,"  repeated  Rose.     "  Do  you  know 
that  you  sat  in  the  same  room  half  an  hour  to-day,  yet 
you  never  spoke  one  word  to  him?     I  have  come  to] 
plead  with  you,   Lilly,  to  be  a  little  kinder  to  him,] 
even  though  you  do  not  like  him,  for  my  sake.     Sayj 
to  yourself,  when  you  meet  him,  'I  must  try  to  be  morel 
pleasant   to   him   because   Rose   loves   him   so   dearly,! 
and  it  is  great  pain  to  her  to  know  that  we  are  not! 
better  friends.'    You  are  a  sunbeam  to  me,  Lilly,  dear,! 
but  you  are  like  an  icicle  to  poor  Royal !  " 

Lillian's  lips  paled  strangely  as  she  listened.  She! 
caught  Rose  in  her  arms  with  a  passionate  cry,  andj 
pushing  the  dark  hair  back  from  her  brow,  gazed  long! 
and  wistfully  into  her  lovely  upturned  face.  "  Ah,| 
if  she  but  knew  all,"  she  thought. 

A  light  that  was  wonderful  to  see  came  into  hef| 
pale,  noble  face. 

"  It  did  not  occur  to  me  that  I  was  wanting  in  cour 
tesy  toward  Mr.  Montague,  Rose/'  she  said  earnestly.! 


PRETT\r    ROSE    HALL. 


135 


136  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

How  strange  it  was,  he  thought,  that  both  of  these 
lovely  girl  should  care  for  him  ! 

"  Royal,"  said  Rose,  as  he  gained  her  side,  "  I  have 
given  this  waltz  to  Captain  Dent  ;  you  were  too  long 
in  concluding  to  ask  me.  I  wish  Lilly  to  dance,"  she 
added,  brightly,  "  and  I  can  find  her  no  better  partner 
in  the  room  than  yourself." 

There  could  be  but  one  reply.  Royal  bowed  low 
before  Lillian. 

"  I  shall  be  delighted,  Miss  Hsrll,  if  you  will  honor 
me,"  he  said. 

There  were  so  many  people  standing  in  groups 
arqund  them  that  Lillian  could  frame  no  excuse  for 
refusing  him.  She  laid  her  hand  lightly  on  his  arm, 
the  bewildering  dance-music  struck  up,  and  the) 
whirled  away  together. 

When  they  reached  the  other  end  of  the  ball-room, 
Lillian  stopped  short  and  said,  huskily  : 

"  I  can  not  finish  this  dance  with  you,  Mr.  Mon 
tague  ;  please  lead  me  to  a  seat  and  leave  me  by  my 
self." 

Plis  longing  was  intense  ;  he  would  have  given  any 
thing  to  have  once  more  placed  his  arm  round  the 

graceful  figure. 

' 

His  heart  was  beating  fast,  but  the  quiet  light  in 


calm  blue  eyes  and  the  grave  tone  of  her  voice 
steadied  him. 

She  could  not  bear  that  the  arms  that  had  been 
thrown  around  her  in  passionate  sorrow  and  pain 
should  clasp  her  in  a  dance. 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  wish,  Lillian,"  he  said,  hoarsely; 
"  but.  if  vou  will  not  dance,  will  vou  walk  with  me 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  137 

through  the  moon-lit  grounds?  Give  me  at  least  five 
minutes,  Lillian. " 

"  Do  not  tempt  me,  Royal;'  she  said ;  "  strangers 
are  not  more  cold  than  we  must  be  to  each  other." 

Royal  Montague  bent  his  handsome  head  lower  over 
the  golden  one  At  that  moment  Rose  approached 
them  quite  unperceived. 

Y-.'as  it  fancy?  It  seemed  to  Rose  that  Royal  sud 
denly  drew  back  from  Lillian.  Was  it  fancy?  She 
thought  she  heard  the  words,  in  a  low,  quivering  voice, 
"  I  can  not  bear  it,  my  darling !  " 

"  The  lights  and  the  music  have  turned  my  brain/' 
she  thought,  smiling  at  the  absurd  idea  that  had  en 
tered  her  head. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Rose's  wedding-day,  which  had  been  set  for  the 
twentieth  of  October,  was  rapidly  drawing  nigh;  it 
wanted  but  three  days  now  to  the  celebration  of  that 
event,  which  was  to  take  place  at  Linden  Villa.  Dec 
orations  had  been  going  on  for  at  least  a  month,  and 
nothing  was  wanting  to  make  the  affair  a  brilliant 
one. 

Lillian  and  Royal  Montague  avoided  each  other 
more  than  ever  now ;  each  had  succumbed  to  the  inev 
itable,  and  sacrificed  themselves  upon  the  altar  of 
duty.  Even  in  the  moments  of  his  darkest  despair, 
Royal  Montague  could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to  wish 
that  he  and  Rose  had  never  met.  Her  great,  worship 
ful  love  had  won  from  him  the  profoundest  pity  and 
.devotion. 

He  had  asked  her  to  marry  him  on  the  impulse  of 
the  moment,  and  now,  even  though  he  had  met  one 


138  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

whom  he  could  have  loved  better,  he  must  not  com 
plain,  lie  loved  Lillian  with  all  the  strength  of  his 
heart,  but  he  could  not  quite  dislike  Rose,  even  though 
she  had  come  between  them.  There  was  a  subtle 
charm  about  Rose  that  always  endeared  her  to  the 
hearts. of  those  with  whom  she  was  brought  in  con 
tact  ;  impulsive,  gay,  piquant,  few  could  help  adoring 
her. 

Rose  Hall's  wedding  day  dawned  bright  and  clear; 
no 'cloud  was  in  the  blue  sky,  no  shadow  darkened  the 
golden  sunlight. 

A  gay  party  had  been  invited  to  Linden  Villa  to 
witness  the  ceremony,  and  already  the  guests  were 
beginning  to  gather.  The  gardens  were  literally 
packed  with  rosebuds  of  girls  in  fluttering  white 
dresses,  and  floating  ribbons  and  laces. 

Rose  Hall  looked  upon  the  brilliant  throng  from 
her  lace-draped  window  with  a  happy  smile. 

"  My  wedding-day !  "  she  murmured.  "  I  wonder  if 
all  brides  feel  as  happy  as  I?  " 

Suddenly  a  memory  of  the  past  swept  over  her  with 
an  awful  shock.  She  had  almost  forgotten  that  short 
week  that  had  so  nearly  wrecked  her  youth ;  it  had 
almost  seemed  like  a  dream  to  her,  that  chapter  of  her 
early  life,  with  one  of  the  pages  turned  down. 

Was  she  the  same  girl  who  had  lived  such  a  dreary 
monotonous  life  of  it  in  the  old  light-house  by  the 
moaning  sea,  longing  and  praying  with  all  her  heart 
for  something  to  happen  to  change  the  terribl*  dull 
ness  of  her  existence? 

No  wonder  she  had  fallen  in  love  with  the  handsome 
stranger — the  first  young  man  who  had  ever  crossed 
her  lonely  path;  no  wonder  she  listened  to  him  when 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  139 

he  poured  into  her  willing  ear  the  tale  of  love  so  like 
the  story  of  Romeo  and  Juliet ;  no  wonder  she  had 
mistaken  simple  liking  for  the  beautiful  dream  called 
love.  She  had  been  so  young  and  guileless,  no  won 
der  he  succeeded  by  his  brilliant,  eloquent  arguments 
in  persuading  her  to  marry  him.  As  she  stood  by  the 
lace-draped  window  in  the  sunlight,  her  mind  reverted 
to  the  dim,  dark  old  church,  and  the  shadowy  altar, 
and  handsome  man  standing  by  her  side,  who  clasped 
her  hand,  whispering  to  her  to  be  courageous,  for  she 
was  soon  to  be  his  darling  little  bride. 

She  remembered,  with  a  thrill  of  horror,  that  home 
ward  trip  on  the  starlit  water — how  Osric  Lawrence, 
her  wedded  husband,  had  kissed  her,  and  parted  from 
her  on  the  white  sands,  bidding  her  wait  there  for 
him,  at  her  old  home,  until  he  returned. 

A  cry  broke  from  her  white  lips  as  she  thought 
of  it.  How  merciful  Heaven  had  been  to  her  in  never 
letting  him  return !  What  should  she  have  done  if 
he  had  lived  to  claim  her?  How  she  loathed  his 
very  memory !  It  was  a  horrible  thought  to  her  that. 
at  least  in  name,  she  had  been  the  bride  of  a  forger. 

No  one  knew  of  it — no  one  would  ever  know. 
True,  it  was  recorded  in  the  register  of  the  dim  old 
church,  but  no  human  eye  that  would  be  likely  to  rec 
ognize  her  name  would  ever  rest  upon  it.  She  was 
secure  enough  in  that. 

How  strange  it  was  that  her  thoughts  should  re 
vert  to  Osric  Lawrence  and  that  dark  past  on  her 
wedding-day ! 

She  looked  into  the  long  French  mirror,  and  was 
startled  at  the  white  face  and  somber  dark  eyes  that 
were  reflected  there. 


140  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

"  I  fear  I  shall  be  a  pale  bride/'  she  thought  to  her 
self,  "  and  Royal  would  not  like  that." 

Her  meditations  were  cut  short  by  a  quick  tap  at 
the  door.  It  was  Lillian. 

"  Would  you  not  like  to  come  down  and  take  a 
peep  at  the  decorations  in  advance  of  the  guests, 
dear?"  she  asked,  caressing  the  dark  curly  head  that 
was  laid  against  her  shoulder.  "  The  florist  who  de 
signed  them  met  with  a  serious  accident  while  ar 
ranging  them — he  missed  his  footing  from  a  step- 
ladder  and  fell.  His  place  has  been  supplied  by  a  very 
clever  young  man,  who  has  excellent  taste  and  dis 
plays  Wonderful  ingenuity,  they  tell  me.  I  am  going 
to  see  and  judge  for  myself  very  soon.  You  might 
like  to  make  a  few  suggestions  here  and  there.  You 
had  better  go  down  and  see  if  you  are  pleased  with 
everything,  Rose,  dear,"  said  her  sister  as  she  kissed 
the  lovely  face,  then  turned  and  left  the  room. 

In  the  grand  drawing-room,  the  magnificent  dec 
orations  which  would  have  been  completed  long 
since  had  the  work  not  be  retarded  by  the  accident, 
under  the  skillful  fingers  of  the  stranger  were  fast 
Hearing  completion. 

He  kept  on  busily  with  his  work,  heedless  of  the 
efforts  of  the  simpering  housemaid,  who  stood  by  him 
with  twine  and  scissors,  doing  her  best  to  engage  him 
in  conversation. 

He  smiled  a  cynical  smile  and  compressed  his 
bearded  lips  tightly  as  he  carelessly  twined  the  laurel 
leaves  and  sweet  white  roses  together  into  a  true-love 
knot. 

A  vague  sort  of  wonder  filled  him  as  to  what  kind  of 


PRETTV    RGrii-:    HALL.  141 


a  bride  would  stand  beneath  it — would  she  be  fair,  or 
dark,  like  one  whom  lie  had  once  known? 

''Marriage  was  a  farce,  and  the  flame  called  love 
was  a  mockery !"  he  told  himself,  "for  women  were  as 
false  as  they  were  fair !'' 

Then  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  did  not  even  know 
the  name  of  the  occupants  whose  home  he  was  decorat 
ing,  and  an  idle  curiosity  came  to  him  to  inquire  the 
names  of  the  contracting  parties. 

The  loquacious  maid  was  only  too  pleased  to  find 
that  the  "smart  young  man  had  found  his  tongue  at 
last/'  as  she  afterward  expressed  it.  . 

"Linden  Villa  is  a  very  fine  place,"  he  observed  at 
length.  "I  should  like  to  live  here." 

"Why  don't  you  apply  for  the  gardener's  place?— 
he's  going  to  leave  next  week.  It's  awfully  lively 
here ;  I'm  sure  you  would  like  it,"  and  she  dropped  her 
eyes  with  a  simpering  girrrrle. 

The  bearded  stranger  fuelled,  and  he  looked  at  his 
whi':e  hnnds  with  a  cynical  Hugh. 

*T  would  not  care  about  such  employment."  he  said, 
with  a  contemptuous  sneer;  "it's  not  to  my  liking." 

"Oh,  that's  it,  is  it?"  she  retorted  with  an  impertinent 
toss  of  her  yellow  braids;  "that's  what  most  of  us 
would  like;  to  dress  fine  and  be  ladies  and  gentlemen 
of  leisure ;  but  when  our  pocket  says  'no,'  we  have  to 
buckle  to.  But  I  needn't  have  been  out  to  service  un- 
lei  •  ocl  to,"  she  went  on  with  another  simpering 

giggle  ;  "there  was  a  right  smart  young  grocer  wanted 
rr.e,  but  I  wouldn't  have  him,  oh,  dear  no!  And  then 
there  was  an  old  bachelor  who  was  just  crazy  for  me 
to  be  Mrs.  Doane ;  but  I  sent  him  about  his  business 
quick  ;  says  I,  '!  thank  you  very  kind,  sir,  but  do  you 


142  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

think  I'd  be  fool  enough  to  marry  a  man  as  old  as  my 
grandfather?'  No,  I  guess  not;  when  I  marry  I  want  a 
handsome  young  man,  or " 

Not  one  word  of  the  girl's  chatter  had  been  heard  by 
the  stranger,  his  thoughts  were  elsewhere,  and  he  cut 
short  her  remarks  by  asking  abruptly : 

"Who  lives  here?" 

"A  grand  old  lady  who  has  more  gold  than  she 
knows  what  to  do  with ;  she's  a  widow,  but  she's  as  old 
as  the  hills!" 

"What  is  her  name?  it  matters  little  to  me  whether 
she  be  'maid,  wife,  or  widow/  "  he  answered  impa 
tiently. 

"Her  name  is  Mrs.  Hall,"  returned  the  girl ;  "it's  her 
granddaughter  that  is  going  to  be  married  to-day  !" 

"Hall !"  exclaimed  the  man,  dropping  the  rose- 
wreath  he  held  in  his  hand,  his  face  white  with  intense 
emotion;  "did  I  understand  you  to  say  Hall  or  Hill?" 

"I  said  H-a-1-1,  in  as  plain  English  as  I  could  speak," 
returned  the  girl,  spelling  out  the  name  a  second 
time. 

He  drew  a  step  nearer  the  girl,  his  features  working 
convulsively,  his  eyes  fairly  blazing  like  purple  gleam 
ing  fires,  his  breath  coming  in  quick,  short  gasps  that 
almost  scorched  her  cheek  as  he  bent  nearer  her. 

"You  say  it  is  this  lady's  granddaughter  who  is  to  be 
married  to-day?  is  she  young  and  beautiful — gloriously 
beautiful,  and  is  her  name — Rose?"  he  gasped.  "Do 
they  call  her  Rose  TTall?" 

"Goodness  gracious  ire  !  why  don't  you  r>.sl;  me  one 
question  at  a  time?"  replied  the  inn.id;  "she's  nret;", 
yes,  and  no  wonder;  any  one  could  be  pretty  drex-c  1 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  143 

In  fine  silks  and  all  that — fine  feathers  make  fine  birds, 
you  know/' 

"But  her  name — tell  me  quick,  do  they  call  her  Rose? 
Rose  Hall  ?  In  Heaven's  name  answer  me,  1  say !" 

"You  seem  to  take  a  wonderful  interest  in  her  any- 
sneered  the  girl,  "but  I'll  set  your  heart  at  rest 
by  telling  you  I  don't  know  what  her  name  is.  I've 
•only  been  here  a  week,  and  I've  always  heard  'em  call 
her  Miss  Hall ;  it  seems  to  me  I  have  heard  some  one 
say  she  was  named  after  a  flower;  and  I  said  to  myself: 
'dear  me,  what  ridiculous  names  rich  folks  do  give  their 
children  ;  they're — •'  " 

Again  the  stranger  cut  her  remarks  short,  and  there 
was  a  glitter  in  his  flashing  eye,  and  a  pallor  on  his 
face  that  quite  frightened  the  girl. 

"  I  want  to  ask  a  great  favor  of  you,"  he  said- 
hoarsely,  drawing  a  silver  dollar  from  his  pocket  and 
placing  it  in  her  hand ;  "  I  want  you  to  go  to  Miss 
Hall's  room  and  tell  her  a  gentleman  wishes  to  see 
her  in  the  drawing-room,  and  in  Heaven's  name  to 
come  quickly.  Will  you  do  it,  my  good  girl?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered;  "but  what  name,  please?" 

"Xever  mind  the  name,"  he  answered  abruptly;  "teli 
her  she  must  see  me !" 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

"Tell  Miss  Hall  I  must  see  her,"  repeated  the  stran 
ger,  vehemently.  "  I  will  wait  here  for  her." 

"When  the  girl  had  quitted  the  room  and  he  found 
himself  alone,  he  turned  to  the  pier-glass  quivering 
with  excitement. 

"Is  it  Rose  who  was, to  have  been  wecl  to-day?''  he 
asked  himself,  clinching  his  hands  together  fiercely. 


144  PRETTY    ROSE    JIALL. 

''Could   she   so   far   have   forgotten   me   as   to   marry- 
again?" 

Would  she  recognize  him?  he  wondered;  would 
those  keen,  dark  eyes  pierce  the  disguise  he  had  so 
cleverly  assumed,  that  even  those  who  had  known  him 
best  passed  him  by,  never  guessing  that  the  dark- 
faced  man  with  a  heavy  curling  beard  was  Osric  Law 
rence,  the  handsome  young  defaulter  who  had  perished, 
as  they  supposed,  in  the  great  fire? 

By  night  and  by  day  for  long,  weary  months  he  had-] 
sought  his  young  bride.     He  almost  \vore  his  life  outl 
in  fruitless  search  for  her.    And  now,  something  in  his 
heart  told  him  he  had  found  her  at  last. 

Found  her  just  in  time  to  prevent  the  wedding  which 
the  elite  of  the  country  had  gathered  together  to  wit— 
ness. 

Had  she  heard  what  had  befallen  him,  rejoicing  after! 
ward  when  she  heard  of  his  death,  which  freed  herl 
from  him  ?  Would  she  cry  out  against  him,  betraying! 
his  identity  to  the  assembled  guests? 

If  his  surmise  proved  correct,  that  the  bride  was  in-| 
deed  Rose  Hall  or  rather  Rose  Lawrence  he  would' 
compel  her  to  go  with  him  without  a  moment's  delay;] 
he  would  resort  to  harsh  measures,  if  need  be,  to  pre-4 
vent  an-  outcry  or  a  scene. 

The  roses  lay  strewn  about  him  unheeded.  He| 
crushed  their  tender  hearts  out  under  his  heel,  never! 
seeing  them  as  he  strode  up  and  down  the  length  of  the! 
magnificent  room,  his  heart  on  fire  and  his  brain  reel-l 
ing. 

It   seemed   to   him   the   length   of   eternity   that   hej 
waited.     At  last  light  footsteps  came  hurriedly  down 
the  corridor;  a  small  white  hand  flung  open  the  doorJ 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL. 


145 


and  a  slight  figure  in  trailing,  filmy  white  stepped  into 
the  room. 

Great  Heaven !  how  well  he  remembered  that  grace 
ful,  girlish  form ! 

A  red  mist  seemed  to  sweep  before  Osric  Lawrence's 
eyes,  shutting  out  everything  from  his  gaze,  even  the 
white-robed  figure  standing  before  him,  with  the  lace 
scarf  wound  round  her  head  veiling  her  face.  In  a  mo 
ment  he  was  kneeling  before  her.  He  had  seized  the 
little  hand,  covering  it  with  passionate  kisses. 

"Do  not  cry  out!  Don't  you  know  me,  my  darling? 
II " 

The  hand  was  quickly  withdrawn  from  his  clasp,  and 
a  voice  that  was  certainly  not  Rose's  said  calmly; 

"One  of  the  servants  told  me  you  wished  to  see  me. 
I  am  amazed  at  the  indignity  I  have  been  called  upon 
rto  suffer  at  your  hands !  Will  you  explain  to  me  what 
[you  mean  by  such  conduct?"- 

Osric  Lawrence  reeled  back  like  one  stricken  a  sud- 
jden  blow,  and  raised  his  dazed  eyes  to  the  face  before 
•him.  She  had  loosened  the  folds  of  the  lace  scarf  that 
pad  enveloped  her,  and  he  saw — not  the  dark,  glowing 
face  of  Rose  Hall — but  a  lovely,  slender  young  girl  with 
pale-gold  hair,  a  calm,  sweet  face  and  eyes  blue  as  vio 
lets. 

"-So  you  are  Miss  Hall?"  he  gasped. 

Lillian  bowed,  for  it  was  she.  The  servant  had  met 
iier  in  the  corridor  and  made  the  very  natural  mistake 
fcf  sending  her  to  the  drawing-room,  by  telling  her  that 
ji  gentleman  down-stairs  had  bidden  her  tell  Miss  Hall 
Ijie  must  see  her  at  once. 

]  And  Lillian  had  repaired  to  the  drawing-room  with- 
Iput  delav. 


1±6  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 


"Yes,  I  am  Miss  Hall,"  replied  Lillian,  gravely,  "and 
I  repeat  that  1  do  not  understand  why  I  should  suffer 
such  indignity  at  your  hands.  Be  good  enough  to  fin 
ish  the  decorations  at  the  earliest  moment,  and  go." 

"It  was  all  a  mistake,  young  lady — a  terrible  mis 
take,"  groaned  Osric  Lawrence,  hiding  his  white  face 
in  his  shaking  hands.  "I  thought  you  was  one  whom 
I  had  loved  and  lost  long  since." 

Lillian  half  pardoned  him  when  she  saw  the  tears  fall 
from  his  eyes,  strong  man  though  he  was.  She  turned 
away  with  a  gentler  expression  on  her  face,  and  slowly 
quitted  the  room. 

Like  one  dazed  Osric  Lawrence  watched  thtf  reced 
ing  form.  Heavens!  how  strangely  the  graceful,  easyi 
carriage  of  this  girl  reminded  him  of  Rose !  Every  ges-j 
ture  of  the  white  hands,  seemed  familiar  to  him — the 
poise  of  the  dainty  head  he  remembered  so  well — eveni 
the  tone  of  her  voice  was  strangely  like  the  gay,  laugh-' 
ing  voice  of  beautiful,  dark-eyed  Rose. 

"I  have  gone  mad!"  he  cried  out  to  himself  when  he 
found  himself  alone,  and  he  bent  again  to  his  task ;  and 
the  laugh  that  fell  from  his  lips  was  terrible  to  hear| 
"Yes,  love  for  a  fair,  false  woman  has  driven  me  mad!"1 
lie  cried,  grimly. 

Lillian  walked  thoughtfully  tc  her  own  boudoir  to 
dress  for  the  ceremony.  She  was  to  be  chief  bride 
maid,  and,  in  the  bustle  and  excitement  attending  suctt 
occasions,  she  quite  forgot  the  incident  in  the  drawing- 
room. 

Hurrying  to  Rose's  room,  she  found  the  maid  puttin 
the  last  touches  to  her  sister's  toilet.  And  a  mor 
beauteous  bride  was  never  beheld.  Never  again  wa 
Lillian  to  see  the  darling  for  whom  she  had  sacrifice 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  147 

all  that  made  life  worth  living-,  with  the  same  joyous 
smile  upon  her  lovely  crimson  lips — never  more  would 
she  see  the  same  laughing  light  in  those  bonny  dark 
eyes — never  more  would  the  gay  young  voice  peal 
out  in  merry  laughter. 

White  as  a  sno\v-drop,  Lillian  came  and  knelt  before 
her  beautiful  young  sister. 

"  Tell  me  again,  Rose,  that  you  are  happy,  dear,"  she 
said,  in  a  low  voice,  burying  her  head  in  the  shining 
folds  of  her  sister's  dress — "  tell  me  again,  and  all  my 
life  long  will  I  remember  your  words ;  they  will  be 
like  a  balm  to  my  heart,  and  I  shall  be  content." 

Rose's  little  hands  wandered  caressingly  over  the 
bowed  golden  head. 

"  I  am  more  than  happy,  Lilly,  dear,"  she  murmured, 
tremulously.  "  When  I  am  Royal's  wife,  Heaven  will 
have  granted  me  the  one  great  desire  of  my  life.  If  I 
had  not  won  him  I  should  not  have  lived,  the  world 
would  have  been  so  dark  and  dreary.  If  the  fear  of 
losing  one  whom  we  love  is  so  terrible,  what  must  the 
reality  be?  Oh,  Lilly,  to  have  the  love  of  one  for 
whom  one  cares  so  much  is  the  sweetest  boon  Heaven 
can  grant ! " 

She  wondered  why  her  golden-haired  sister  trem 
bled  so  in  her  arms,  and  why  the  hands  she  clasped 
grew  so  cold. 

"  I  am  content  to  know  that  you  are  so  happy,  dear," 
said  Lillian  again,  and  a  beautiful  light  shone  on  the 
pale,  sweet  face  she  raised  to  Rose. 

To  one  sweet  sunshine  of  love  was  given,  while 
the  other  was  left  in  coldness  and  darkness  more  cruel 
than  death.  The  life  of  one  sister  was  to  be  a  living 
sacrifice  for  the  other. 


148  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

"  May  your  life  be  all  sunshine,  dear,"  sobbed  Lilly; 
"  may  you  be  as  happy  in  your  future  as  you  have  been 
in  the  past,  with  no  cloud  or  sorrow  to  mar  its  bright 
ness  ! " 

For  an  instant  the  glorious  dusk  face  of  Rose  Hall 
paled  to  the  hue  of  the  shimmering  satin  robe  she  wore.. 
Her  past!    How  little  Lillian  knew  what  the  past  held; 
for  her! 

There  are  hidden  secrets  in  many  a  life  that  those 
nearest  and  dearest  to -them  never  dream  of. 

A  bevy  of  merry  bride-maids  came  chattering  down-;; 
the  corridor,  and  the  loving  conversation  of  the 
sisters  ended. 

Girl-fashion,  each  one  went  in  raptures  over  th 
lovely  bride.  Was  there  ever  a  bride  more  perfect 
from  the  crown  of  her  dark,  orange-crowned  heacff 
to  the  tips  of  her  tiny  white  satin  slippers?  How  fairf 
the  beautiful  face  shown,  in  the  sweetest  of  blushes! 
beneath  the  filmy  bridal  veil ! 

Royal  Montague  was  waiting  for  her  in  the  corridor^ 
without.    He  could  not  repress  the  start  of  surprise  ati 
the  vision  of  lovely  girlhood  that  glided  up  to  him  ancjj 
laid  a  little  hand  timidly  on  his  arm.    He  was  never  S( 
near  loving  her.  as  at  that  moment.     Together  they 
wended  their  way  down  to  the  magnificent  drawing 
room,  gorgeous  with  tropical  blooms  and  crowded  wit! 
guests. 

A  murmur  of  intense  admiration  rang  through  thi 
throng  of  guests  as  their  gaze  fell  upon  the  flushe< 
face  of  the  bride-elect.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  Rose 
Hall  was  marrying  for  love.  And  many  of  them  no 
ticed,  too,  how  strangely  white  her  sister  Lillian's  fad 
appeared  in  contrast. 


TRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  149 

Through  the  crowded  drawing-room  the  procession 
moved  to  the  flower-strewn  altar  which  had  been 
erected,  and  then,  as  it  paused  before  the  clergyman, 
the  music  ceased  and  a  dead  stillness  rilled  the  air. 

A  vague  thought  came  to  the  beautiful  bride,  as  she 
stood  there — of  that  other  marriage  in  the  dim  old 
church.  It  almost  seemed  to  her  that  it  had  happened 
in  another  world.  But  the  record  of  it,  on  page  87, 
was  registered  scarcely  a  year  before,  she  remembered. 

Then  the  minister  spoke. 

Dear  Heaven !  where  had  she  heard  that  solemn,  im 
pressive  voice  before  ? 

Rose  felt  the  air  grow  dense,  the  solid  earth  tremble 
beneath  her  feet.  Then  there  came  a  deep  and  breath* 
less  silence,  and  she  raised  her  eyes  to  the  clergyman's 
face.  Was  it  the  mockery  of  fate?  This  was  the  same 
minister  who  had  united  her  in  marriage,  scarcely  a 
year  before,  to  handsome,  reckless  Osric  Lawrence ! 

Would  he  recognize  her,  or  her  name?    It  was  a  mo 
ment  of  intense  suspense.     There  came  for  her  a  mo- 
,ment  whose  agony  of  fear  nearly  drove  her  mad. 

If  he  recognized  her,  she  well  knew  he  would  not 
proceed  with  the  ceremony.  She  knew  why. 

Heaven  was  merciful  to  her.  Slowly  the  beautiful 
marriage  service  went  on.  Rose  listened  in  a  strange 
|£tupor  to  the  words  addressed  to  Royal  Montague, 
She  heard  his  firm,  steady  answer.  Then,  for  th^  firsfc 
time,  the  clergyman  turned  and  looked  into  the  death- 
white  face  of  the  lovely  bride.  Then  an  abrupt  hush, 
as  solemn  and  silent  as  death,  ensued.  He  bent  slowly 
and  gazed  down  into  the  face  of  the  bride,  and  then — '' 


150  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

"Where  had  he  seen  a  face  that  reminded  him  so  < 
strangely  of  this  one,"  was  the  thought  that  flitted 
through  the  old  clergyman's  brain  as  he  gazed  down 
into  the  beautiful  white  face  of  the  bride-elect. 

He  was  very  old  and  his  eyes  were  dim,  his  memory 
weak.  It  must  have  been  only  fancy,  he  told  himself, 
that  he  had  repeated  the  solemn  words  of  the  marriage 
service  to  this  fair  young  girl  before.  Perhaps  she 
resembled  some  one  whom  he  had  met. 

The  puzzled  look  cleared  from  his  aged  face,  and,  to 
Rose's  intense  relief,  the  ceremony  proceeded.  The 
words  were  spoken  which  should  have  bound  her  for 
evermore  to  Royal  Montague. 

Then   followed   the   congratulations   and   the  sump 
tuous  wedding  breakfast.    To  Rose  it  seemed  like  a  be 
wildering  dream.    One  thought  and  one  alone  occurred 
to  her— she  was  Royal's  wedded  wife,  and  nothing, 
even  death  could  ever  part  them.     Quickly  the  hours 
glided  by  and  evening  came.     The  coach  which  was 
to  take  the  newly  wedded  pair  to  the  pier,  stood  before  ] 
the  door,  and  when  the  final  leave-taking  was  over,  | 
Royal  led  his  young  wife  to  the  carriage  and  it  whirled  , 
away  amid  a  shower  of  roses  and  rice,  and  the  blithe 
laughter  of  the  gay  throng  of  guests. 

When  a  bend  in  the  road  hid  them  from  view  in  the 
dusky  twilight,  Lillian  Hall,  who  had  kept  up  with 
heroic  bravery  to  the  last  moment,  lifted  up  her  white 
face  to  the  starlit  sky,  and  reaching  out  her  hands  with 
a  low  moan,  fell  face  downward  among  the  long  green 
grasses  where  Rose  and  Royal  had  stood. 

When  they  hastened  to  raise  her,  they  found  her 
senses  locked  in  a  deep,  death  like  swoon. 


' 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  151 


No  one  wondered  at  it,  remembering  how  well  this 
I  gentle  golden-haired  sister  had  loved  beautiful,  willful 

Meanwhile  the  carnage  sped  quickly  on  to  the  wharf. 
When  they  found  themselves  alone,  Royal  bent  down 
and  kissed  the  blushing  face  of  his  lovely  girl-bride, 
mentally  vowing  that  the  only  reparation  he  could 
make  her  for  not  loving  her  more  was  to  surround  her 
with  all  the  care  and  devotion  possible. 

He  would  study  her  comfort,  she  should  never  miss 
the  tenderness  thrt  n->d  been  lavished  upon  her  in  the 
home  she  was  leaving. 

He  would  be  true  to  her,  loyal  to  her  in  word, 
thought,  and  deed;  she  should  be  happy  if  he  could 
make  her  so. 

The  past — was  past — he  would  begin  life  anew,  he 
would  do  his  best  to  blot  out  that  other  face  from  his 
memory,  and  enshrine  only  the  image  of  the  young 
wife  he  had  wedded.  Learning  to  love  Rose  would 
not  be  a  difficult  task. 

Rose's  great  worshipful  love  for  himself  had  drawn 
his  heart  toward  her.  He  meant  to  be  more  than  kind 
to  merit  it. 

A  half  hour  later  they  were  on  board  the  steamer 
bound  for  New  York,  and  the  old  life  was  left  behind. 

There  had  never  been  so  fair  a  night  on  the  bonny 
Hudson. 

In  all  the  years  of  her  after  life,  years  of  bitter  sor 
row  and  pain,  the  girl  never  forgot  the  bright  hour  that 
followed. 

Rose  and  Royal  sat  on  the  deck  watching  the  moon 
light  on  the  water,  and  the  lights  of  the  beautiful 
village-  that  dotted  the  hill  slopes  as  the  steamer  glided 


152  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

by;  he  was  silent  and  thoughtful,  Rose  sat  gazing  at 
him,  her  very  soul  in  her  lovely  eyes. 

"Would  you  mind,  Rose,  if  I  were  to  smoke  a  cigar?" 
he  asked,  suddenly.  "Would  you  care  if  I  left  you  by 
yourself  a  few  moments?" 

"No,"  she  answered,  simply,  and  he  thanked  her 
and  walked  to  the  other  side  of  the  deck. 

He  was  her  husband,  this  fair-haired  handsome  man, 
pacing  up  and  down  in  the  starlight,  and  this  was  her 
wedding-day.  How  strange  it  seemed  to  be. 

Royal  Montague  and  his  young  bride  were  not  the 
only  passengers  that  boarded  the  steamer  at  Peekskill : 
the  boat  was  just  leaving  the  wharf  as  a  young  man 
sprung  aboard,  almost  missing  his  footing  upon  the 
gang-plank  in  his  eager  haste. 

It  was  Osric  Lawrence.  He  had  quitted  Linden 
Villa  immediately  after  his  encounter  with  Lillian  HalL 

He  had  not  waited  to  see  the  bridal  party  enter  the 
magnificent  rooms  he  had  decorated ;  what  cared  he  for 
lovely  brides  and  happy  bride-grooms? 

lie  had  made  up  his  mind  to  return  to  New  York.  '! 
Upon  inquiring  when  the  next  train  left  the  village  lie 
was  informed  that  it  left  at  midnight  but  if  he  wished 
to  go  by  water,  he  could  take  the  steamer  at  the  pier 
in  an  hour's  time. 

LTpon  what  slight  threads  do  the  destinies  of  human  \ 
lives  often  hang ! 

Osric  Lawrence  knit  his  brows  in  a  frown. 

"Much  as  I  dislike  traveling  by  boat  I  suppose  I  may 
as  well  take  it  as  to  wait  for  three  hours  to  catch  the 
train,"  he  mused,  and  that  decision  was  the  turning 
point  in  three  lives. 

He  sauntered  out  upon  the  deck.     The  first  person 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  153 


upon  whom  his  eyes  rested  was  a  slim  young  girl,  in  a 
fawn-colored  traveling  dress,  sitting  quite  alone  at  one 
end  of  the  steamer.  The  white  plumes  drooping  over 
the  jaunty  hat,  and  the  white  lace  scarf  which  half 
concealed  and  half  revealed  a  rose-bud  mouth  and 
dainty  dimpled  chin  formed  a  charming  picture,  which 
almost  irresistibly  attracted  Osric  Lawrence  to  that 
end  of  the  boat,  and  he  sat  down  upon  one  of  the 
folding-chairs  opposite  to  her. 

He  was  looking  in  her  direction,  when  suddenly  she 
turned  toward  him  and  their  eyes  met. 

With  a  hoarse  cry  Osric  Lawrence  sprung  to  his  feet 
and  gained  her  side,  even  in  the  shadowy  uncertain 
light  he  recognized  her. 

''Rose!"  he  cried,  "Rose!  I  have  found  you  at  last!" 

Great  Heaven,  had  the  grave  given  up  its  dead?  Was 
she  mad  or  dreaming?  Was  this  Osric  Lawrence, 
whose  tragic  death  she  had  read  of  standing  before 
her  alive  and  well? 

Her  white  lips  parted  in  a  low  moan. 

Despite  the  disguise  he  wore — looking  into  his  eyes 
she  knew  him.  And  she  recoiled  from  his  eager  out 
stretched  hands  in  frantic  terror  pitiful  to  behold.  Then 
reckless  courage  came  to  her  aid. 

"Do  not  touch  me  !"  she  cried,  vehemently ;  "I  should 
die  if  your  hand  clasped  mine." 

Osric  Lawrence's  face  darkened  with  terrible  wrath, 
but  before  he  could  speak  she  went  on  wildly : 

"f  know  who  and  what  you  are,  I  know  all.  How 
dared  you,  whose  hands  and  whose  conscience  were 
stained  with  crime,  lure  an  innocent,  foolish  girl  into 
wedding  you?  What  infamy!  I  wonder  Heaven  did 
not  strike  you  dead  at  the  altar!" 


154  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

"Rose,"  he  said  mournfully ;  "oh,  beautiful  Rose,  who 
lured  me  into  loving  you  by  the  mad  witchery  of  your 
wondrous  beauty  and  deserted  me,  fled  from  me  in  the 
dark  hour  of  my  sorest  trials.  I  pray  you  be  more 
merciful  to  me.  No  matter  who  or  what  I  am,  you 
have  linked  your  life  with  mine.  You  are  my  wife !  " 

Her  face  blanched  with  terrible  fear.  What  if 
Royal  should  come  up  to  where  they  stood  at  any  mo 
ment,  and  turn  inquiringly  upon  the  stranger  standing 
by  her  side- — what  should  she  say  to  him? 

Since  the  hour  she  had  parted  from  Osric  Lawrence 
on  the  sands,  she  had  not  seen  him ;  and  the  oblivion 
that  had  fallen  over  his  memory  after  the  report  of  his 
death  made  her  lot  perhaps  easier  to  bear.  But  now 
that  he  stood  before  her  in  the  flesh,  the  disgrace,  the 
humiliation,  the  degradation  of  her  position  flashed 
across  her.  At  any  moment  this  man — a  criminal — 
might  publicly  claim  her  as  his  wife.  If  she  knew  what 
he  intended  to  do,  it  would  be  easier  to  bear. 

Then  came  the  thought  like  a  flash  of  doom,  that  the 
knowledge  of  this  man's  existence  tore  her  from  Royal 
Montague's  arms — tore  their  hearts  asunder,  cast  them 
as  far  apart  as  though  a  grave  lay  between  them. 

Why  had  Heaven  given  her  Royal  Montague's  love 
— her  heart's  desire — if  he  was  to  be  taken  from  her? 
What  had  she  done  that  God's  mercy  had  not  been 
shown  her? 

Her  whole  soul  was  racked  with  terrible  suspense 
and  anguish,  by  the  torture  of  shame  and  fear  of  ex 
posure. 

At  the  very  sight  of  Royal  she  could  have  cried 
aloud  in  her  anguish.  Only  the  tight  clinching  of  the 
white  hand^  in  her  lap  betrayed  what  she  suffered, 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL.  155 


>ric  Lawrence  came  nearer  her — her  fair  beauty 
rendered  him  desperate. 

"  Rose,"  he  cried,  and  there  was  the  sound  of  a  sob  in 
his  voice,  "be  more  merciful  to  me!  give  me  one  kind 
word.  I  thought  it  would  be  so  different.  I  never 
meant  you  to  know  the  story  of  my  sin.  Oh,  Rose,  if 
you  knew  what  I  suffered,  the  torture  I  have  exper 
ienced  in  longing  for  one  glimpse  of  you !  I  am  a  wicked 
man.  My  crime  was  great ;  but  my  sufferings  have 
exceeded  it  a  thousand-fold.  I  bade  you  good-bye  on 
the  sands  that  night,  expecting  to  return  in  a  few 
short  hours  and  take  you  away  with  me — so  far  away 
that  no  one  would  ever  see  me  who  would  recognize 
me.  Can  you  imagine  what  I  endured  when  they  cap 
tured  me  and  took  me  away?  I  fell  on  my  face  like 
one  dead  with  one  word  on  my  lips — the  word  Rose — 
it  was  more  bitter  than  death !" 

"You  should  have  expected  punishment  for  your 
wretched  sin/'  she  replied,  icily ;  "but  the  greatest  sin 
you  have  committed,  is  blighting  my  life.  You  came 
to  me  in  the  guise  of  a  gentleman.  You  were  not  an 
honorable  man — you  were  a  felon  fleeing  from  justice — 
from  the  just  wrath  of  men!  How  dared  you  persuade 
a  young  and  innocent  girl,  so  ignorant  of  the  ways  of 
the  world,  into  marrying  you — a  felon?" 

A  low  cry  came  from  his  lips. 

"Oh,  Rose,  Rose,  you  wound  me !  I  can  not  bear  the 
sound  of  such  words  from  your  lips ;  let  my  love  plead 
for  me.  I  have  loved  you  so  madly !" 

She  raised  her  white  hand  with  an  imperative  ges 
ture. 

"Your  lord"  she  repeated  in  proud  scorn.  "I  abhor 
the  word  upon  your  lips!" 


156  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

"You  cared  for  me  once/'  he  said. 

Then  a  terrible  white  pallor  spread  over  his  face; 
a  fearful  thought  came  to  him. 

What  if  she  had  learned  to  care  for  any  one  else? 
But  no,  it  should  not — must  not  be.  He  would  rather 
see  her  lying  dead  before  him  than  see  her  happy  in 
the  love  of  another. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

The  steamer  glided  on  through  the  blue,  starlit 
waters ;  but  those  two  standing  there,  Rose  and  Osric 
Lawrence,  were  oblivious  to  their  surroundings.  The 
agony  of  death  was  written  upon  one  face;  on  the 
other,  determination. 

"Now  that  we  are  brought  face  to  face  with  each 
other  again,  what  do  you  propose  to  do?"  she  asked, 
faintly,  gazing  at  him  with  large,  startled  eyes. 

The  answer  was  just  what  she  knew  it  would  be,  yet 
it  shocked  her  to  the  heart's  core.  The  wonder  is  that 
she  did  not  drop  dead  at  his  feet. 

"I  shall  claim  my  wife,"  he  answered.  "Will  it  be  so 
much  of  a  hardship  for  you  to  follow  my  fortunes, 
Rose?"  he  asked,  noting  the  deathly  whiteness  of  her 
beautiful  face.  "You  are  far  above  me  now,"  he  went 
on,  steadily.  "  I  have  heard  all  about  how  you  left  the 
old  light-house  to  share  the  palatial  home  of  a  wealthy 
relative  and  to  become  her  heir ;  but  that  does  not  daunt 

me,  Rose —  you  are  still  mv  wife." 

j 

Should  she  tell  him  of  Royal  Montague,  who  was  the 
other  half  of  her  very  soul?  Should  she  tell  him  that 
that  very  day  she  had  stood  at  the  altar  with  him? 
Oh,  the  torturous  agony  of  the  bitter-sweet  memory. 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  157 


No,  no;  she  would  not — she  could  not  speak  to  this 
man  of  Royal  Montague  and  her  love  for  him. 

"You  can  claim  me,  but  I  shall  never  go  with  you — 
never !"  she  cried,  wildly.  "I  would  throw  myself  into 
the  river  first !" 

He  gazed  at  her  steadily,  and  the  gaze  drove  her  to 
desperation. 

"What  is  it  that  you  wish  me  to  do,  Rose?"  he 
asked  abruptly. 

"Oh,  Osric !  if  you  would  but  go  away,  and  leave  me 
in  peace !  "  she  moaned. 

"After  losing  you,  and  searching  so  long  for  you,  that 
is  what  you  desire  me  to  do?"  he  said,  slowly. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  eagerly,  her  dark  eyes  brightening 
with  hope. 

"Then,"  he  replied,  "you  are  more  heartless  than 
even  I  took  you  to  be.  If  you  read  of  my  incarcera 
tion,  you  must  have  read  of  the  report  of  my  death ; 
yet  you  are  not  glad  to  know  the  rumor  was  false.  I 
see  now  that  you  would  have  been  glad  had  it  been  true 
— then  you  would  have  been  free."  No  answer  fell 
from  Rose's  white  lips ;  she  knew  that  all  he  said  was 
quite  true.  "But  why  is  it  you  are  so  ready  to  cast 
me  out  of  your  life?"  he  asked,  suspiciously,  gazing 
down  into  those  dark,  frightened  eyes. 

"  Because  I  have  never  really  loved  you,  Osric,"  she 
answered,  falteringly. 

"You  are  very  candid,"  he  snid,  bitterly.  "Tell  me," 
he  cried,  grasping  the  slim  white  hand  that  lay  upon 
the  rail,  his  face  darkening  with  rising  passion — "tell 
me  that  you  have  not  learned  to  love  another  since  I 
left  you." 

She  made  no  reply.    Not  to  have  saved  her  life  would 


158  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

she  have  denied  her  love  for  Royal  Montague.  His 
kiss  was  still  warm  upon  her  lips — those  lips, should 
never  deny  him.  He  saw  that  the  face  on  which  he 
gazed  grew  whiter  still. 

"You  do  not  speak,"  he  added,  gloomily.  "By  Heaven, 
Rose,  if  I  thought  you  had  learned  to  care  for  another, 
I  would — well,  no  matter  what  I.  would  do.  I  do  not 
wish  to  frighten  you ;  yet,  all  the  same,  I  must  have 
your  answer.  I  will  know  if  you  care  for  any  one 
else!"  he  cried  his  grasp  tightening-  on  the  slim  white 
hands  and  the  lurid  light  deepening  in  his  eyes. 

Not  far  from  where  she  sat  Royal  Montague,  who 
would  have  shielded  her  with  his  very  life,  stood, 
carelessly  smoking  his  cigar  and  in  animated  conversa 
tion  with  a  gentleman  friend. 

Yet  in  the  hour  of  her  deadly  peril — when  she  stood 
upon  the  deck  of  the  steamer  in  the  grasp  of  the  half- 
maddened  man — there  was  no  one  near  to  help  her  or 
raise  a  hand  in  her  defense. 

She  was  no  coward.  Her  courage  rose  equal  to  the 
emergency. 

"  Loosen  your  grasp  Osric ;  you  pain  me."  she  said, 
quietly.  "Let  us  walk  to  the  other  end  of  the  boat, 
where  we  can  talk  this  matter  over  calmly  without  fear 
of  being  overheard." 

Oh,  if  she  could  but  bribe  him  to  go  away  and  leave 
her  in  peace.  Wealth  had  been  showered  upon  her;  she 
would  give  him  every  dollar  of  it  if  he  would  but 
promise  to  go  away  at  once  and  leave  her  in  peace. 
She  had.no  time  to  shape  her  after-course  just  then. 

She  broached  the  subject  timidly  enough.  Osric 
Lawrence's  wrnth  rose  to  a  white-heat  as  he  listened 
to  her.  Hope  died  out  of  her  heart  when  he  answered: 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  159 

"All  the  gold  in  the  world  would  not  tempt  me  to 
give  you  up,  Rose !  You  are  mad  to  hope  for  it.  I  will 
never  give  you  up  !" 

Those  words  brought  the  despair  that  possessed  her 
to  a  climax,  and  rendered  her  recklessly  desperate. 

"There  is  a  way  in  which  you  could  be  forced  to  give 
me  up,"  she  cried.  ."If  I  were  to  cry  out,  'This  man 
is  Osric  Lawrence ! '  how  long  would  you  be  permitted 
your  freedom  ?  You  forget  the  precipice  on  which  you 
stand  when  you  refuse  to  make  terms  with  me.  You 
are  in  my  power,  instead  of  I  being  in  yours.  Leave 
the  boat  at  the  next  landing,  if  you  would  save  your 
self." 

"Would  you  betray  me?"  he  asked,  steadily,  and 
gazing  unflinchingly  into  her  beautiful  white  face,  a 
dark  flush  that  boded  no  good  stealing  over  his  own, 
his  eyes  flaming  with  fierce  light.  He  moved  nearer 
her,  and  his  hot  breath  scorched  her  cheek. 

The  very  tone  of  his  voice  might  have  warned  her. 
He  clutched  the  white  hand  he  still  held,  harder. 

"  And  the  lips  that  I  have  kissed  would  denounce 
me !  "  he  said,  hoarsely.  "  I  am  glad  I  have  discovered 
your  intention.  You  shall  never  accomplish  it;  I  will 
prevent  you." 

"  What  do  you  mean  to  do  ?  "  she  cried,  attempting 
to  draw  back  from  him,  and  wrench  her  hand  from  his 
cruel  grasp. 

Before  he  could  utter  the  retort  that  sprung  to  his 
lips  the  hand  of  Fate  tore  them  rudely  asunder. 

It  will  never  be  known  how  the  accident  happened. 
The  huge  hull  of  the  steamer  quivered  a  little,  and  an 
explosion  followed,  completely  demolishing  that  part  of 
the  deck  where  Rose  and  Osric  Lawrence  had  so  lately 


160  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

stood.     When  the  steam  cleared  away  they  were  no 
where  to  be  seen. 

In  the  confusion  which  ensued,  Royal  Montague 
rushed  frantically  to  the  spot  where  he  had  left  Rose. 
Great  Heaven,  she  was  not  there!  He  shouted  her 
name  like  one  distracted. 

In  vain  the  captain  reassured  the  startled  passengers 
no  serious  damage  had  been  done,  no  one  was  hurt. 
Royal  Montague  hurried  among  them,  frantically  call 
ing  upon  the  name  of  Rose ;  no  Rose  answered. 

With  white  appalled  faces  they  searched  the  deck, 
the  cabin,  and  state-rooms  but  the  beautiful  young  girl 
whom  they  remembered  so  well  was  missing. 

Royal's  Montague's  grief  knew  no  bounds.  The 
ladies  gathered  around  the  bereaved  young  husband 
and  wept  for  him ;  gentlemen  grasped  his  hand  in  token 
of  sympathy  more  eloquent  than  words. 

Boats  were  lowered  and  sent  out  in  all  directions  but 
one  by  one  they  returned  with  the  sad  tidings:  they 
had  searched  carefully  among  the  debris  that  floated 
upon  the  water;  but  one  trace  of  the  young  lady  could 
be  found — a  bit  of  lace  found  floating,  which  Royal 
recognized  at  once  as  Rose's  handkerchief,  and  which 
he  had  seen  in  her  hand  when  he  parted  from  her  a  few 
minutes  before. 

There  was  but  one  conclusion  to  be  arrived  at — the 
shock  had  precipitated  her  into  the  water  and  she  hid 
been  struck  by  a  plank,  or,  perhaps  by  the  plunging 
wheel  of  the  steamer  and  sunk  to  rise  no  more. 

Another  passenger  was  found  missing,  a  man,  who  * 
had  boarded  the  steamer  at   Peekskill  and   who  was 
booked  as  Henry  Smith.     Poor  fellow  he  must  have 
slmiv  fate. 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL.  161 

Every  effort  was  made  to  recover  the  bodies,  but  the 
waters  rippled  on  under  the  dancing  starlight,  refusing 
to  reveal  the  secret  they  held. 

As  all  further  attempts  were  useless,  the  steamer 
resumed  her  course  again. 

Royal  Montague  shut  himself  up  in  his  state-room, 
refusing  to  be  comforted. 

Poor  beautiful  Rose !  he  had  never  known  how  dear 
she  was  to  him  until  the  hour  when  she  was  so  cruelly- 
snatched  away. 

Never  more  would  the  sweet  crimson  lips  be  held  up 
to  him  for  love's  caressing  kisses.  Never  more  would 
the  white  arms  wreathe  themselves  about  his  neck, 
while  the  dark  head  nestled  upon  his  shoulder,  and  his 
lovely  young  bride  whisper  to  him  how  much  she  cared 
for  him. 

Royal  Montague  so  tender  of  heart,  sobbed  aloud  in 
the  fullness  of  his  terrible  grief. 

Poor  Rose,  poor  pretty  Rose,  who  had  loved  him  so 
well! 

How  should  he  take  the  story  back  with  him  to  the 
proud  old  grandmother  who  had  loved  her  darling  so 
fondly  and  to  Lillian  who  had  worshipped  her  fair 
young  sister  Rose?  How  could  he  tell  them  what  had 
befallen  her? 

Why  was  he  not  by  her  side  in  the  hour  of  danger? 
-  Ah,  how  he  reproached  himself  for  leaving  her  so  long 
by  herself. 

Had  she  cried  out  to  him  in  her  moment  of  peril,  had 
his  name  been  the  last  upon  her  lips? 

Frojn  that  moment  lines  of  care  settled  upon  Royal 
1  Montague's  face  that  were  to  leave  it  nevermore. 

There  was  great  mourning  at-  Linden  Villa,  when 


162  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

the  lengthy  telegram  announcing  the  terrible  news 
reached  them,  even  the  servants  refused  to  be  com 
forted,  she  was  so  well  beloved. 

The  proud  old  lady  who  had  loved  beautiful  Rose 
so  well,  listened  to  the  telegram  in  awful,  rigid  silence. 

''Those  whom  we  love  best  are  taken  from  us  first," 
she  muttered.  "Heaven  help  me  to  bear  it." 

The  grief  of  Lillian  was  pitiful  to  behold.  For  long 
weeks  she  lay  upon  her  couch  in  delirium  hovering  be 
tween  life  and  death,  and  the  one  cry  upon  her  lips 
through  the  hours  of  the  sunlit  day,  and  through  the 
long  watches  of  the  dreary  night  was : 

"Rose." 

That  was  the  message  Mrs.  Hall  brought  to  the 
drawing-room  to  Royal  Montague  a  lew  weeks  later, 
when  he  presented  himself  at  Linden  Villa. 

"Shall  I  see  Lillian  before  I  leave?"  he  asked,  when 
he  had  been  stopping  there  a  week.  "I  go  to-mor-^ 
row." 

When  the  message  was  taken  to  Lillian,  she  bowed" 
her  head  in  her  hands,  weeping  as  though  her  tender! 
heart  would  break  between  duty  and  desire. 

"Tell  him  I  will  see  him,"  was  the  answer  she  sent 
back. 

Meanwhile,  dear  reader,  you  and  I  will  learn  the 
true  fate  of  beautiful  Rose. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 
A  moment  after  the  explosion,  Rose  found  hersel 
struggling  in  the  water.    In  vain  her  piercing  cries  renl 
the  air;  the  terrible  confusion  that  reigned  on  boarc 
the  steamer  completely  drowned  them ;  and  the  piece 
T>f  wreckage  to  which  she  clung  was  drifting  further 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  163 

from  the  steamer  each  moment.  Ere  the  boats  were 
lowered,  she  had  fallen  back  into  the  water  wholly  un 
conscious. 

It  must  have  been  the  hand  of  Providence  that 
caused  her  at  that  critical  moment,  when  certain  death 
seemed  inevitable,  to  become  caught  and  securely 
wedged  in  between  the  driftwood,  which  cast  her  at 
length  upon  the  shore. 

For  hours  she  lay  upon  the  shore  before  conscious 
ness  returned  to  her;  but.  as  she  opened  her  dark, 
dazed  eyes  and  took  in  the  situation,  she  remembered 
all  that  had  occurred,  and  a  piteous  cry  fell  from  her 
white  lips. 

It  was  morning;  the  sun  shone  upon  the  water 
gently  laving  the  moss-grown  bank,  betraying 
nothing  of  the  catastrophe  those  gilded  waves  had 
witnessed  but  a  few  short  hours  before. 

Slowly  up  and  down  in  the  sunlight  Rose  paced, 
looking  her  fate  bravely  in  the  face.  She  remembered 
standing  with  Osric  Lawrence  when  the  explosion  oc 
curred.  She  had  a  faint,  confused  remembrance  of 
seeing-  him  struggling  in  the  water,  striking  out  for 
the  plank  to  which  she  clung,  to  save  her.  After  that 
she  knew  no  more. 

He  was  an  expert  swimmer.  He  had  not  returned 
to  the  j=tesrper  neither  had  he  been  lost,  she  felt 
eqtn.Jly  sure.  Then  her  thoughts  went  back  to  Royal 
Montague. 

F*Oh.  •  v<»  mv  love,  who  has  been  so  cruelly 

sennr;  c!  fr^tr-  <- •- <--  \  "  she  moaned.  "Do  von  r"onrn 
for  me.  believiner  me  lying  beneath  these  wave?? 
Royal,  my  darfinqr,  you  and  I  are  nothing  to  each 
other  now;  he  has  come  between  us!" 


164  PRETTY    ROSE   HALL. 

The  sun's  warm  rays  dried  the  black  curls  that  hid 
her  face  like  a  mourning  veil,  and  dried,  too,  the  river 
water  that  dripped  from  her  clothing.  How  long  she 
had  lain  on  the  shore  she  never  knew. 

She  was  trying  to  solve  the  problem  how  she  could 
live  her  life  out  without  Royal  Montague's  love; 
for  she  must  not  go  back  to  him.  The  wedding-ring 
on  her  finger  was  the  cruelest  mockery.  She  was 
not  Royal's  bride :  for,  Heaven  help  her,  the  man 
whom  she  believed  dead  had  returned  to  claim  her. 
She  must  never  cross  Royal  Montague's  path  again. 
The  days  must  come  and  go,  suns  rise  and  set,  yet 
she  must  not  see  him ;  he  must  think  that  the  dark 
waves  had  taken  her  from  him. 

As  for  Osric  Lawrence  she  cared  little.  That  he 
would  search  for  her  until  he  found  her  again  she  well 
knew,  that  is,  if  he  had  but  the  slightest  inkling  of 
what  her  fate  had  been — that  she  had  been  spared. 

But  he  should  never  find  her,  never.  She  tried  to 
look  the  future  in  the  face — the  terrible  future  that 
seemed  worse  than  death  to  her. 

She  closed  her  dazed  eyes  to  the  glare  of  the  sun 
light.  She  had  a  dim  consciousness  of  hearing  the 
blithe  whistle  of  farm  laborers  as  they  crossed  the 
fields  to  their  work,  and  then  all  became  blank. 


Two  persons,  by  chance,  chose  the  river  road  that 
morning,  sauntering  leisurely  along  on  their  way  to 
market — they  were  Farmer  Johnson  and  his  wife,  and 
they  were  in  a  high  dispute  in  regard  to  money  mat 
ters. 

The  wife's  shrill  tongue  came  to  a  standstill,  how 
ever,  as  her  sharp  eyes  discerned  something  very  like 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL.  165 

the  outlines  of  a  human  figure  lying  among  the  tall 
reeds. 

"  Jonas !  "  she  cried  shrilly,  grasping  her  husband's 
arm  in  afright  and  pointing  toward  the  object;  "  what 
on  earth  is  that  ?  " 

"  It  looks  like  the  figure  of  a  woman !  "  exclaimed 
the  astonished  farmer.  "  Why,  by  George  it  is  a 
woman !  "  he  cried,  quickly  gaining  the  spot,  his  wife 
close  at  his  heels. 

In  a  moment  the  good  little  woman  was  down  on 
her  knees  beside  the  prostrate  form,  pushing  the  damp 
curls  back  from  the  white  face. 

"It's  a  young  girl!"  she  cried.  "Oh,  Jonas,  do 
look  and  see  how  pretty  she  is,  her  face  is  like  art 
angel's.  What  are  you  standing  there  staring  fof 
with  your  hands  in  your  pockets?''  she  demanded 
sharply ;  "  pick  her  up  and  bring  her  back  to  the  cot 
tage.  I'll  see  what  can  be  done  for  the  poor  lass." 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  better,  Ruth,  if  we  took  the  girl 
down  to  the  village  tavern  ? "  timidly  suggested  her 
better  half. 

"  Will  you  hold  your  tongue,  Jonas,  and  do  as 
you're  bid?"  exclaimed  his  wife;  "the  tavern,  indeed^ 
for  that  grasping  old  landlord  to  run  up  a  bill  on  the 
poor  pretty  creature,  when  like  as  not  she  hasn't,  a 
cent  in  her  pocket.  Lift  her  up  and  be  lively;  don't 
you  see  she's  in  a  dead  faint?" 

The  angry  light  in  the  black  eyes  turned  upon  him 
warned  the  farmer  that  it  were  better  to  obey  without 
further  remonstrance;  he  plainly  saw  that  his  wife, 
had  made  up  her  mind. 

He  lifted  the  slim  figure  with  alacrity,  and  in  a  few 


166  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

moments  more  they  had  reached  the  farm-house,  cut 
ting  across  lots  through  the  wheat  fields. 

A  young  girl  sat  in  the  door-way  paring  apples ;  she 
sprung  to  her  feet  scattering  the  fruit  in  all  directions, 
staring  in  amazement  at  the  strange  spectacle  that 
met  her  view ;  her  father  striding  hurriedly  along 
the  path  bearing  a  girlish  figure  in  his  arms,  her 
mother  following  up  in  the  rear. 

"  For  mercy  sakes,  pa,  who  in  the  world  have  you 
got  there?  who  is  she,  and  what's  the  matter  with 
her?" 

"Molly!"  exclaimed  her  mother  sharply,  "you're 
like  your  father  for  all  the  world ;  stop  staring  and 
asking  questions;  run  quick  and  see  if  there's  hot 
water  on  the  stove,  and  bring  me  the  peppermint- 
bottle  and  the  mustard-jar,  towels,  hot  blankets,  and 
help  me  get  this  poor  young  creature's  clothes  off  and 
into  bed,  and — " 

"  Don't  give  the  girl  so  many  orders  at  once, 
mother,"  expostulated  the  farmer  soothinelv ;  "don't 

O    *     ' 

you  see  you  have  muddled  her  head  so  she  don't  know 
what  to  do  first?  " 

The  good  woman  started  kitchenward  in  high 
dudgeon. 

"  It's  always  the  way,  if  I  want  anything  done  I 
have  to  do  it  myself!"  she  cried  angrily.  "You  two 
are  a  pretty  nnir  of  drawbacks  for  a  smart  woman  like 
me  to  be  tied  to !  " 

And  she  flounced  out  of  the  best  room,  leaving  the 
lovely  stranirer  to  the  care  of  the  curious  Molly. 

She  returned  in  a  trice,  fairly  loaded  down  with  bot 
tles,  blankets  and  etceteras.  The  farmer  was  hastily 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL,  167 


invited  to  vacate  the  room,  then  the  work  of  restor 
ing  the  beautiful  young  stranger  began  at  once. 

Slowly  the  dark  eyes  opened,  but  there  was  no  light 
of  reason  in  them.  It  was  pitiful  to  see  the  tears  on 
the  long,  dark  lashes. 

"  I'm  afraid  the  poor  little  thing  has  the  fever !  " 
exclaimed  the  farmer's  wife  pityingly ;  if  she  has  she 
won't  be  able  to  leave  this  bed  for  many  a  long  day !  " 

The  beautiful  dark  eyes  regarded  her  with  a 
frightened  light  in  their  depths.  The  crimsoned  lips 
babbled  empty  nothings. 

Now  and  then  a  word  or  sentence  could  be  distin 
guished, 

"  Life  was  so  hard  to  bear,*  the  quivering  lips  mut 
tered  over  and  over  again. 

"  I'm  afraid  the  poor  pretty  creature  has  seen  some 
great  trouble,"  the  farmer's,  wife  concluded,  and  her 
motherly  heart  went  out  to  her  in  kindest  sympathy. 

For  long  weeks  Rose  remained  at  the  farm-house; 
she  had  fallen  into  good  hands  and  was  tenderly  cared 
for. 

Vaguely  they  wondered  who  she  was  and  whence  she 
came,  and  how  she  came  to  be  lying  in  a  dead  faint 
among  the  reeds  by  the  river. 

That  she  was  not  a  creature  in  want  they  readily 
surmised  from  the  texture  of  her  clothing,  which  was 
of  the  daintiest  and  costliest  kind,  glittering  rings 
adorned  the  little  white  hands,  and  in  the  pocket  of 
her  dress  a  handsome  purse  was  found  well  supplied 
with  bills. 

The  mystery  that  shrouded  her  appearance  there 
deepened  as  the  days  rolled  by,  and  her  fever  increased. 

If  the  beautiful  stranger  died  among  them  there  was 


168  PRETTY    ROSE   HALL. 

no  way  of  learning  her  identity.  The  incident  was 
duly  written  up  by  a  special  correspondent,  and  found 
its  way  into  the  columns  of  the  New  York  papers;  but 
the  papers  of  the  great  metropolis  had  chronicled  like 
events  too  often  for  the  general  reader  to  cast  more 
than  a  passing  glance  at  the  article;  it  was  read  with 
out  comment  and  forgotten. 

Meanwhile  the  dread  fever  had  reached  a  climax,  and 
the  lovely  stranger  opened  her  eyes  to  the  cares  of  life 
again  after  weeks  of  suffering,  gazing  in  dismay  at  the 
strange  faces  and  plain  homely  surroundings. 

"  Where  am  I  ?  "  she  asked,  blankly  raising  her  eyes  j 
to  the  face  of  the  farmer's  wife.    "  I  have  had  such  hor 
rid  dreams;  where  is  Lillian?"  she  asked  impatiently; 
(C  I  want  her  at  once !  " 

Before  they  could  answer  her  a  piercing  cry  broke  I 
from  her  lips,  a  cry  so  heart-rending  that  it  brought 
tears  to  the  eyes  of  those  standing  around  her  coitch. 

"  I  remember,  oh,  I  remember  all !  "  she  moaned. 

Like  a  flash  memory  had  returned  to  her.     She  re- 1 
membered  being  carried  ashore  by  the  driftwood  and 
of  falling  into  a  dazed  stupor  among  the  tall  reeds  near 
the  wheat  fields,  with  the  sound  of  voices  in  her  ears. 

She  remembered  how   she  had   made  such  valiant 
efforts  to  make  her  presence  known  when  oblivion  over-  § 
took  her. 

"  I  found  you  lying  in  the  path  by  the  river,"  said 
the  farmer's  wife.  "  I  brought  you  to  my  own  home 
and  nursed  you.  You  have  been  very  ill  for  long  weeks, 
there  was  no  way  by  which  I  could  find  the  address  of 
your  friends  or  I  would  have  sent  for  them." 

"  Oh,  they  must  never  find  me ! "  cried  Rose  in  the 
keenest  alarm.  "  I  am  cast  adrift  from  them  for  ever- 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  169 

more.     No  one  who  ever  knew  me  shall  see  my  face 
again!" 

The  day  came  at  length  when  Rose  was  able  to  leave 
the  farm-house. 

Their  entreaties  to  tell  them  who  she  was,  and 
whence  she  came,  met  with  a  firm  denial. 

"  My  name  is  Rose,'"  she  answered  them,  simply, 
"  further  than  that  I  can  not  tell  you.  No  one  in  the 
world  ever  met  with  such  a  fate  as  I  have  had,  and  it 
has  blighted  my  life;  that  is  all  I  can  say  for  myself. 
Yet  when  I  am  gone  think  of  me  kindly/'  she  went  on. 
with  tears  standing  in  her  great  dark  eyes,  "  for  Heaven 
knows  no  girl  living  has  such  need  of  pity  and  sym 
pathy  as  I  have.'"' 

She  pressed  most  of  the  money  her  purse  contained, 
together  with  the  valuable  rings  she  wore,  into  the 
rough  toil-worn  hand  of  the  farmer's  wife : 

"  You  have  been  very  kind  to  a  helpless  stranger," 
she  said,  "  let  me  repay  you  as  best  I  can ;  every  kind 
action  to  the  helpless  meets  its  reward  in  God's  own 
good  time.  You  will  one  day  meet  yours." 

That  was  the  last  they  ever  saw  of  the  beautiful 
stranger  whom  they  knew  only  as  Rose. 

^Rose  had  decided  to  make  her  way  to  Peekskiil.  A 
strange  yearning  filled  her  heart  to  see  Lillian  once 
again,  then  to  go  far  away,  whither  she  cared  not 

She  would  not  dare  to  make  her  presence  known  to 
Lillian,  for  the  startling  announcement  that  she  lived, 
would  be  sent  to  Royal  Montague  at  once,  and  that 
must  not  be,  for  if  he  should  come  to  claim  the  bride 
the  ruthless  waves  had  torn  from  him,  she  would  be 
forced  to  tell  him  the  story  of  Osric  Lawrence  and  his 
claim  upon  her. 


170  I'KKTTY    ROSE   HALL. 

"  Oh,  if  I  had  Lilly  to  console  and  advise  me,"  she 
moaned,  "  but  I  dare  not  tell  her,  she  would  shrink  in 
horror  from  keeping  such  a  secret.  I  will  look  upon 
Lillian's  face,  but  she  must  not  know  it." 

The  train  on  which  Rose  was  a  passenger,  sped 
quickly  on  through  the  dusky  twilight,  and  the  dark 
ness  of  night  had  fallen  ere  it  reached  Peekskill. 

Rose  alighted,  and  drawing  her  veil  closer  over  her 
face,  started  to  walk  to  Linden  Villa. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

It  was  quite  three  miles  to  Linden  Villa  from  the 
depot,  and  although  Rose  felt  weak  from  her  recent  ill 
ness,  still  she  would  take  no  conveyance,  and  under 
took  the  journey  on  foot. 

How  brightly  the  moon  shone  down  upon  the  earth, 
bathing  the  trees,  the  flowers,  and  white  winding  road 
in  its  silvery  light.  How  the  golden  stars  glowed  in 
the  blue  sky. 

The  birds  had  folded  their  wings  and  sought  their 
nests  among  the  leafy  branches. 

The  flowers  had  folded  their  dewdrops  close  to  their 
hearts  with  their  tender  petals,  and  were  rocked  to 
sleep  by  the  gentle  night-wind. 

Rose  passed  slowly  along  the  well-remembered  road, 
tears  falling  like  rain  from  her  dark  eyes. 

Suddenly  the  sound  of  a  horse's  hoofs  upon  the  peb 
bled  road  caused  her  to  start,  and  she  drew  back  into 
the  shadow  of  the  trees  until  the  horseman  should  pass. 

Ah,  how  often  she  had  cantered  over  that  same  white 
road  riding  by  Royal  Montague's  side.  How  gay  and 
roseate  the  world  had  looked  to  her  then. 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  171 


Could  she  be  the  same  creature,  changed  so  com 
pletely  in  a  few  short  weeks? 

Nearer  and  nearer  the  horseman  approached,  his  face 
toward  her  in  the  clear  moonlight. 

He  was  abreast  of  the  trees  now.  Ah,  Heaven,  it  was 
Royal  Montague ! 

She  never  knew  how  she  restrained  the  mad  impulse 
to  cry  out  to  him,  "  Royal,  oh,  my  love !  my  love ! 
mourn  for  me  no  longer,  I  am  here!  " 

Then  she  remembered  she  would  have  no  right  to 
rest  in  Royal  Montague's  arms,  to  feel  his  passionate 
kisses  of  joy  upon  her  face,  to  listen  to  his  words  of 
delight  upon  being  restored  to  him  again. 

Her  face  grew  white,  her  lips  pale,  her  slender  figure 
swayed  to  and  fro.  to  be  so  near  to  him,  yet  to  be 
parted  from  him. 

A  moment  more  and  he  had  vanished  from  sight, 
leaving  the  solitary  figure  behind  upon  the  road.  She 
knew  he  was  going  to  Linden  Villa,  he  had  turned  his 
steed  in  that  direction. 

"  Poor  Royal,"  she  sobbed,  "  how  unhappy  he  is !  He 
is  going  to  the  dear  old  home  where  v/e  met  and  loved 
each  other.  Would  Lillian  greet  him  coldly?"  sh-e 
wondered.  "  Oh,  if  Lillian  would  but  be  kind  and 
gentle  with  him,  speak  words  of  sympathy  to  him, 
make  him  feel  at  home  at  Linden  Villa !  " 

He  had  brushed  the  drooping  branches  of  the  trees 
carelessly  aside  with  his  hand  as  he  rode  by  them.  He 
would  never  know  of  the  lonely  figure  that  stood  under 
them  passionately  kissing  the  green  leaves  his  hand 
had  touched. 

At  last  the  towers  and  turrets  of  Linden  Villa  greeted 
her  view  as  she  turned  an  abrupt  curve  in  the  path. 


172  PRETTY    ROSJ:    HALL. 


I'KF/ITY    ROSE    HALL.  173 

tell  her  truthfully  that  it  was  this  that  had  caused  her 
to  fly  from  the  old  light-house,  lest  this  man  should  re 
turn  and  claim  her. 

Oh,  how  Lillian  would  gather  her  in  her  arms  and 
weep  over  her  as  she  told  her  piteous  story !  She  would 
readily  agree  with  her  that  it  were  best  not  to  make 
her  presence  known  to  Royal — or,  in  fact,  to  any  one 
else  just  tnen.  She  would  see  that  it  was  the  wisest 
and  the  only  course  to  pursue.  Lillian  was  so  wise,  so 
good,  she  would  plan  some  way  out  of  it  for  her. 

Softly  the  slender  figure  stole  after  Lillian  as  she 
passed  the  flower  beds,  the  lilac  and  magnolia  walks, 
on  toward  the  chestnut  grove.  Both  had  crossed  the 
star-lighted  park  and  were  nearing  the  shadows  of  the 
trees,  but  a  few  feet  apart. 

"  Lillian  !  "  called  Rose,  gently. 

But  Lillian  did  not  hear  her;  her  own  thoughts  en 
grossed  her. 

Rose  was  silent  for  a  moment.  A  bird  flew  from  its 
nest  in  the  nearest  tree,  a  rabbit  rustled  in  the. .brush 
wood,  the  wind  stirred  some  fallen  leaves,  a  wocjjjtfove' 
called  out  to  its  mate.  /. 

"  Lilly !  "  she  called  again,  more  softly  than  before. 

The  girl  paused  in  a  startled,  solemn  wonder. 

<;It  must  be  only  fancy,"  Lillian  Hall  said*to  her 
self,  drawing  the  i^leecy  folds  of  her  scarf  closer  ab»,nt 
her.  l<  Even  the  wind  seems  to  whisper  to  me  with 
the  voice  of  Rose." 

Before  Rose  could  utter  her  sister's  name  again,  a 
light  step  came  swiftly  down  the  pebbled  walk,  and 
even  before  he  spoke,  poor  Rose  knew  it  was  Royal 
Montague  advancing  hurriedly  toward  her  sister.  Oh, 
how  her  soul  went  out  to  him!  Again  she  drew  back 


17-4  i'RKTTY     ROSE    HALL. 

into  the  shadow  of  the  trees  until  he  should  leave  her 
sister.  It  was  quite  out  of  the  question  for  her  to  speak 
to  Lillian  now. 

Only  the  fragrant  blossoming  lilac  branches  sepa 
rated  her  from  Royal  Montague  and  Lillian.  He  had 
come  up  to  her  sister  now. 

"  Lillian  !  "  he  cried  out  in  a  glad  voice.  "  Here  you 
are!  1  have  been  searching  everywhere  for  You.  I  am 
sure  you  ran  away  to  avoid  me." 

The  girl  crouching  behind  the  lilacs  listened  in  won 
der.  His  voice  had  never  sounded  like  that  when  he 
had  addressed  her.  There  was  an  undercurrent  in  it 
that  puzzled  her. 

She  saw  Lillian's  fair,  sweet  face  flush  hotly  in  the 
bright  white  moonlight.  She  looked  up  at  him  with  a 
smile,  drawing  bashfully  away  from  his  outstretched 
hands,  answering,  confusedly: 

"  I  did  not  know  that  you  were  searching  for  me, 
that  you  wanted  me,  Royal." 

His  reply  was  like  the  shock  of  doom  to  the  beauti 
ful,  Hapless  creature  listening  to  them  both  so  intently : 

"You  did  not  know  that  I  wanted  you!  Oh,  Lillian, 
what  nonsense!  Is  there  a  moment  in  my  life  that  I 
do  not  want  you,  my  darling?  " 

These  were  the  words  that  broke  a  human  heart ! 



CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Clearly  through  the  solemn  stillness  of  the  summer 
night,  the  words  fell  from  Royal  Montague's  lips  upon 
the  heart  of  the  beautiful  solitary  figure  crouching 
among  the  lilac  branches. 

Royal  believed  himself  quite  alone  with  Lillian — he 
could  speak  his  thoughts  freely  now. 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  175 

"  You  avoided  me  purposely,  Lillian,  that  I  might 
have  no  opportunity  of  telling  you  what  is  in  my  heart ; 
you  must  have  read  what  it  wanted  to  say  in  my  eyes. 
You  are  cruel,  clear." 

"  Royal,"  said  Lillian,  gently,  holding  up  her  little 
white  hand  warningly.  "  Remember,  you  are  not  to 
talk  to  me  so,  at  least  not  yet,  it  would  almost  seem 
as  though  we  had  forgotten  the  memory  of  Rose." 

What  Royal'  Montague's  answer  was,  the  figure 
crouching  behind  the  lilac  leaves  never  knew.  She  saw 
him  clasp  the  little  white  hands  he  held,  fondly  in  his 
own,  raise  them  to  his  lips,  and  kiss  them  tenderly. 

"Am  I  mad,  or  am  I  dreaming?"  sobbed  the 
wretched  girl,  who  watched  and  listened  to  the  two 
who  were  so  utterly  unconscious  of  her  presence. 

She  saw  Lillian  gaze  at  him  with  a  grave,  thoughtful 
face. 

"  Do  not  turn  from  me,  Lillian,"  cried  Royal  Mon 
tague?  "  remember,  love-making  between  us  dates  lar 
back.  Ah,  Lilly,"  he  went  on,  quickly,  "  what  a  love 
story  ours  has  been !  How  strangely  we  have  been 
separated ;  you  were  my  first  last  and  only  love,  Lillian, 
always  remember  that." 

The  words  fell  like  drops  of  molten  lead  upon  the 
breaking  heart  so  near  them.  The  swaying  figure  had 
sunk  down  among  the  sharp  thorns  and  the  brambles, 
but  she  did  not  even  feel  the  pain  of  them.  The  earth 
and  sky^seemed  to  meet  above  her.  The  leaves  of  the 
trees  seemed  to  moan  in  the  night-wind.  The  moon  hid 
her  sorrowful  face  in  the  white  clouds. 

Again  Royal  Montague's  voice  broke  the  silence,  and 
the  crouching  figure  strained  every  nerve  to  listen. 

"  I  do  not  remember,  Lillian,"  he  said,  "  ever  to  have 


176  TRETTY    ROSE   HALL. 

heard  a  story  like  ours.  What  have  we  not  suffered 
since  that  sunlit  day  we  parted  in  the  park,  going  to 
sacrifice  ourselves  upon  the  altar  of  duty." 

"  Do  not  recall  it,  Royal,"  sighed  Lillian,  faintly. 

"  I  must  refer  to  it,  dear,"  he  said ;  "  it  is  all  over 
now,  we  both  did  our  duty  nobly  to  Rose  while  she 
lived,  now  we  must  forget  her — that  is,  forget  all  the 
pain  and  sorrow,  and  only  remember  that  we  tried  to 
make  her  happy.  If  Rose  had  lived,  you  and  I  would 
have  buried  our  love  for  each  other  as  deep  as  the 
boundless  seas.  Rose  should  never  have  known  that 
there  was  a  secret  between  you  and  me,  dear." 

If  the  hand  of  God  had  stricken  Rose  dead,  the  beau 
tiful  white  face  upturned  to  the  night  sky  could  not 
have  been  whiter. 

The  moon  in  all  its  rounds,  looking  down  in  its  pure 
white  light  upon  sin,  suffering,  pain,  and  all  human 
woes,  never  looked  upon  a  sadder  sight. 

"  In  my  thoughts  I  go  over  the  past  time  and  time 
again/'  continued  Royal  Montague,  slowly.  "  I  was 
heart  whole  and  fancy  free  when  I  first  met  Rose,  to 
love  her,  although  she  was  all  that  was  beautiful  and 
good,  never  occurred  to  me.  Imagine  my  intense  sur 
prise,  Lillian,  upon  making  the  discovery  in  an  unex 
pected  manner  that  Rose  loved  me.  I  was  amazed,  be 
wildered,  that  the  worshipful  love  of  a  human  heart  had 
been  lavished  upon  me,  who  had  not  sought  if.  I  was 
intensely  sorry  for  Rose,  and  my  pity  for  her  led  me 
into  asking  her  to  marry  me.  There  was  no  passionate 
love-making  between  us — never!  In  the  after  days  I 
saw  the  folly  of  giving  the  hand  where  the  heart  could 
never  go.  When  I  first  gazed  upon  your  sweet  face  I 
knew  then,  what  the  first  great  and  only  love  of  a  man's 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  1  /  < 

lifetime  meant.  You  and  I  had  met  too  late,  Lillian,  I 
was  engaged  to  Rose." 

They  passed  on,  arm  in  arm,  through  the  chestnut 
grove  and  over  the  moonlit  lawn  to  the  house.  Then 
silence  reigned. 

Like  a  kunted  hare  Rose  sprung  to  her  feet,  hurry 
ing  through  the  pleasure-grounds,  through  the  coppice, 
and  into  the  heart  of  the  grove. 

No  human  being  was  near,  but  the  birds  were  soon 
startled  by  the  passionate  cries  of  a  broken  heart- 
cries  that  fell  freely  and  clearly  on  the  soft,  sweet  air, 
and  seemed  to  rise  to  the  heavens — bitter,  passionate 
cries  that  took  with  them  the  burden  of  a  most  un 
happy  soul.  After  a  time  they  died  away;  the  moans 
and  sobs  ended.  The  girl  lay  among  the  crushed  gold 
en-rods,  with  wide-open,  horror-stricken-,  somber  eyes, 
looking  the  terrible  future  full  in  the  face. 

Carefully,  step  by  step,  she  went  over  that  past  which 
had  seemed  such  a  golden,  roseate  dream  to  her,  bright 
ened  by  love's  dazzling  flame.  It  was  pity,  then,  that 
had  prompted  Royal  Montague  to  offer  her  his  hand. 
Oh,  the  shame  of  it !  The  blood  in  her  veins  seemed  to 
turn  to  fire,  and  her  white  face  to  scorch  at  the  very 
thought  of  it. 

Now  she  understood  plainly  much  that  had  never  oc 
curred  to  her  before.  Now  she  knew  why  Lillian  had 
fainted  when  she  had  accidentally  met  Royal  Montague 
in  the  drawing-room — they  had  been  lovers  once. 

Royal  and  Lillian  had  met  after  his  fatal  engagement 
to  her — met  arid  loved  each  other — yet  they  had  parted. 
"  Sacrificed  themselves  on  the  altar  of  duty  " — those 
were  the  words  he  had  uttered. 

Had  he  but  told  her — oh !  had  he  but  told  her  that  he 


178  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

had  learned  to  love  Lillian  best,  she  would  have  given 
him  up  to  Lillian  and  gone  out  of  their  lives,  and  they 
should  never  have  looked  upon  her  face  again. 

How  cruelly  these  two  had  deceived  her  by  hiding 
their  terrible  secret  love  for  each  other — Lillian,  whom 
she  had  believed  as  fair  and  sweet  as  the  angels  in 
heaven,  and  her  lover,  whom  she  had  worshipped  so 
blindly. 

So,  through  all.  this  time — even  when  they  stood  at 
the  altar  together — Royal  had  not  loved  her ! 

She  had  worshipped  him.  She  had  made  no  secret  of 
it ;  she  had  told  him  so  often,  with  kisses  and  tears,  that 
life  held  nothing  for  her  but  his  love.  Oh,  the  bitter 
sorrow,  bitter  shame  !  He  had  listened  to  her,  knowing 
all  the  time  that  it  was  Lillian  whom  he  loved,  and  not 
her!  She  had  talked  with  him,  planned  with  him  the 
future  they  were  to  share  together.  She  had  thought 
of  herself  as  his  wife,  he  had  stood  by  her  side  while 
the  solemn  words  were  uttered  that  bound  him  to  her 
for  life,  yet  all  this  time  his  heart  had  yearned  for 
Lillian. 

Now  she  knew  what  the  outward  coldness  meant  be 
tween  Royal  and  Lillian  which  had  always  puzzled  her 
so.  These  two  who  had  loved  each  other,  and  parted, 
could  never  be  cold,  calm,  formal  friends. 
'  Oh,  if  either  of  them  had  but  told  her  how  matters 
stood !  Though  she  knew  it  would  have  broken  her 
heart,  she  would  have  given  him  up. 

In  that  moment  the  great  yearning  love  in  her  heart 
was  slain ;  no  words  could  picture  such  a  grief  as  hers. 
Now  she  could  see  why  the  ham!  of  Fate  had  torn  her 
from  Royal  Montague's  arms  on  their  wedding-eve.  It 
would  have  been  a  thousand  times  more  merciful  if 

" 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  179 

Heaven,  in  its  infinite  mercy,  had  let  her  die  in  the  cold, 
dark  waters,  instead  of  letting  her  live  to  discover  this. 

Her  future  m;«.tUirevl  iiule  enough  to  her  now.  She 
would  go  quietly  away ;  Lillian  and  Royal  should  never 
know  she  lived,  lie  had  not  grieved  for  her  untimely 
fate;  it  had  not  grieved  him  that  matters  had  turned 
out  as  they  had ;  it  set  him  free  to  woo  and  win  the  love 
of  his  heart.  That  she  had  not  died  would  be  no  bar 
rier  to  his  marriage  with  Lillian.  The  appearance  of 
Osric  Lawrence  had  snapped  asunder  the  slender  cords 
that  bound  her  to  Lillian's  lover. 

Silently  she  turned  her  beautiful  face  from  all  that 
she  had  loved  best  on  earth,  crept  slowly  out  of  the 
park  and  away  from  Linden  Villa  without  casting  one 
glance  behind.  There  were  no  tears  in  the  great  som 
ber  dark  eyes ;  she  was  beyond  all  tha^. 

The  sound  of  music — sweet,  melodious  harp  music — 
floated  out  to  her  as  she  moved  silently  as  a  dark 
shadow  down  the  avenue.  She  knew  it  was  Lillian's 
fingers  that  thrilled  the  chords  of  the  harp  until  they 
trembled  with  the  tenderest  melody.  She  could  imag 
ine,  with  vivid  fancy,  just  how  Royal  was  bending  over 
her.  She  knew  the  very  look  that  was  on  his  face,  and 
how  the  love-light  glowed  in  his  handsome  eyes. 

That  same  evening,  the  solitary  fVut-e  that  had 
alighted  at  the  Peekskill  depot  in  the  dusky  twilight, 
left  it  again  on  the  midnight  train.  An  hour  later,  the 
lights  of  New  York  gleamed  in  the  distance  before  her. 

Rose  Hall — for  such  she  preferred  to  still  call  her 
self — drew  the  folds  of  her  wrap  closer  about  her, 
looking  wistfully  out  of  the  car  window.  She  had  never 
been  alone,  at  night,  in  the  streets  of  New  York.  She 
quite  dreaded  it,  for  she  had  not  the  least  notion  of 


380  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

where  she  intended  to  go,  when  she  reached  there. 
She  told  herself,  at  length,  that  she  would  wait  in  the 
depot  until  daylight. 

There  was  the  usual  bustling  throng  of  people  hu try 
ing  to  and  fro,  as  the  train  slackened  at  length  in  tht 
depot. 

One  man  stared  in  undisguised  astonishment  as  the 
hesitating  girlish  figure  that  alighted  from  the  tram, 
quite  alone,  timidly  entered  the  waiting-room  and  took 
a  seat.  Another  moment  and  he  had  crossed  the  room, 
stopped  Directly  in  front  of  her,  laying  his  hand  heavily 
on  the  girl's  shoulder. 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL.  181 


into  the  beautiful  face  turned  impatiently  away  from 
him,  determining  to  know  more  of  its  owner. 

There  was  no  one  to  warn  her  that  the  young  man 
standing  before  her  was  one  of  the  most  dangerous 
roues  in  New  York.  Well  bred,  polished,  aristocratic 
he  certainly  was ;  but  these  attributes  do  not  always 
proclaim  a  gentleman. 

Willard  Sinclair  was  a  wealthy  down-town  dry-goods 
merchant,  and  a  bachelor.  He  was  immensely  popular 
with  all  the  belles  and  marriageable  ladies,  but  he 
might  not  have  been  such  a  favorite  in  exclusive  soci*- 
ety  if  some  of  the  events  of  his  private  life  had  been 
made  public,  and  the  breath  of  scandal  fanned  certain 
whispers  into  life. 

The  young  merchant  had  a  passionate  love  for  pretty 
faces,  and  as  he  looked  down  into  the  exquisite  inno 
cent  face  of  Rose  Hall,  he  told  himself  that  she  was  by 
far  the  most  beautiful  girl  he  had  ever  beheld. 

There  was  no  one  to  tell  Rose  that  the  clever  story 
of  "  the  governess  he  had  expected  on  that  train  "  was 
purely  a  fiction  he  had  woven  together  for  the  express 
purpose  of  affording  him  an  opportunity  of  speaking  to 
her. 

Young  girls  who  read  the  story  of  Rose  Hall  should 
profit  by  what  they  read.  It  should  be  a  warning  to? 
them  to  be  chary  of  exchanging  a  word  with  a  stranger. 

Willard  Sinclair  smiled  as  Rose  turned  her  face 
away.  He  had  gained  this  much  knowledge,  that  the 
name  of  the  beautiful  young  girl  was  Rose  Hall. 

Looking  closer  at  her,  he  saw  the  traces  of  tears  on 
her  fair  face. 

"  You  are  a  stranger  in  New  York,  are  you  not?."  he 
asked,  questioningrly. 


182  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

Again  Rose  bowed,  and  he  went  on : 

"  Most  young  girls  who  come  to  the  city  alone  are 
in  search  of  friends  or  employment.  I  hope  the  former 
is  your  case." 

;<  I  have  no  friends,"  replied  the  girl,  lifting  those 
wondrous  dark  eyes  of  hers  to  his  face.  "  I  am  quite 
alone  in  the  world,  sir/' 

The  retort  that  sprung  to  his  lips  died  away  upon 
them ;  he  could  not  utter  the  words  while  those  dark 
eyes  were  upon  his  face. 

"If  you  are  in  search  of  employment,  perhaps  I  can 
be  of  assistance  to  you,"  he  said,  with  a  more  courteous 
bow  than  before.  "  Perhaps  it  was  a  kind  fate  which 
threw  me  in  your  path.  Would  yon  like  to  take  the 
place  of  governess  this  Miss  Gordon  has  failed  to 
claim?  "  he  queried. 

In  case  she  answered  "  Yes,"  which  he  quite  believed 
she  would,  he  made  up  his  mind  what  course  he  should 
pursue ;  he  would  not  count  the  cost.  A  girl  who  is 
ready  to  accept  as  truth  the  plausible  story  of  a 
stranger,  must  not  find  fault  with  the  consequences  if 
they  discover  at  length  that  they  have  been  willfully  de 
ceived. 

Rose's  answer  saved  her  from  a  terrible  fate. 

"  You  are  very  kind,  sir,  but  I  could  not  accept  such 
a  responsible  position  as  governess,  for  several  rea 
sons." 

He  bit  his  lips  with  vexation. 

"  Perhaps  you  have  something  better  in  view,"  he 
said,  twirling  his  tawny  mustache  with  his  white  hand, 
upon  whch  a  costly  diamond  gleamed. 

"  Xo,"  said  Rose ;  "  it  is  not  that.     I  think  if  I  were 


PRETTY    ROSE    IIAI^L.  183 

to  find  employment  in  some  store,  it  would  be  best  for 
me." 

A  peculiar  smiie  curved  his  lips.  "  Wiry  not  let  her 
try  the  hardships  of  clerking1  in  a.  store  for  a  little 
while?"  he  argued  within  himself. 

"  Again  kind  fate  may  have  sent  me  to  your  rescue," 
he  said,  pleasantly.  "  I  can  procure  you  just  such  a 
situation.  Call  to-morrow  morning  at  eight  o'clock, 
sharp,  at  this  address,"  he  said,  producing  a  card  from 
his  case,  "  and  we  will  see  what  can  be  done  for  you. 
What  -do  you  intend  to  do — that  is,  where  do  you  in 
tend  to  go  in  the  interim?  "  he  asked,  abruptly.  "  You 
can  not  think  of  remaining'  in  this  waiting-- room  until 
to-morrow  morning;  it  is  oaly  a  little  after  midnight 
now.  I  should  advise  you  to  go  to  a  boarding-house 
and  seek  rest/' 

Rose  flushed  with  painful  embarrassment,  remember 
ing  how  little  money  there  was  in  her  attenuated  purse 
wherewith  to  purchase  such  a  needful  luxury. 

He  saw  the  flush  on  the  lovely  face,  and  quite  under 
stood  the  cause  of  it;  but  there  was  a  certain  dignity 
about  this  young  and  lovely  girl  which  made  him  hesi 
tate  about  offering  her  assistance  ;  he  concluded  he  had 
better  not. 

He  was  loath  to  leave  her  side,  yet  he  could  find  no 
reasonable  excuse  to  remain. 

"  You  will  be  sure  to  come  to-morrow  morning  to 
the  address  indicated  on  the  card?"  he  asked. 

"  I  shall  be  on!y  t<x>  thankful  to  come.  I  am  very 
grateful,  indeed,  for  the  kindly  interest  you  have  mani 
fested  in  me,  sir,"  said  Rose,  great  tears  shining  in  her 
dark,  velvety  eyes. 

"  Do  not  mention  it  I  pray  you,"  he  replied  ;  "  any 


184  PRETTY    ROSE   HALL. 

gentleman  ought  to  be  only  too  pleased  to  render  a 
helpless  woman  all  the  assistance  in  his  power.  That 
is  my  name/'  he  continued,  pointing  to  the  first  name 
on  the  card.  "  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  serve  you  in  any 
way." 

He  touched  his  hat  and  walked  away. 

"  How  kind  Heaven  is  to  have  raised  me  such  a  good, 
noble  friend  in  my  hour  of  need !  "  thought  Rose,  gaz 
ing  after  him.  She  remembered  that  she  was  Rose 
Hall,  the  petted  heiress,  resplendent  in  glittering  dia 
monds  and  costly  robes,  no  longer.  Now  she  was  Rose 
Hall,  an  alien  from  home  and  friends,  dependent  upon 
her  own  exertions,  thrown  upon  the  world's  mercy. 

She  had  often  met  poor,  tired  working-girls  walking 
to  and  from  their  labors,  as  she  rode  by  surrounded  by 
all  the  trappings  of  wealth ;  but  let  this  be  said  for  her, 
she  had  always  looked  upon  these  noble  young  work 
ing-girls  with  profound  reverence  and  pity  in  her  beau 
tiful  eyes*  even  while  little  dreaming  that  the  day 
would  come  when  she  would  be.  one  among  them,  earn 
ing  her  bread  as  they  did. 

The  long  hours  till  daylight  wore  away  slowly. 

Rose  watched  the  pink  flush  creep  into  the  eastern 
sky  from  the  window  with  thankful  delight. 

She  purchased  her  slight  breakfast  at  the  lunch  stand, 
and  smoothing  out  her  tangled  curls,  and  freshening 
her  appearance  in  the  dressing-room,  was  soon  ready 
to  seek  the  address  contained  on  the  card. 

"  MESSRS.  SINCLAIR  &  HOLLISBURY, 
Dry  Goods'  Emporium — B'way." 

The  card  contained  an  engraving  of  the  building,  and 
Rose  saw  that  it  was  a  mammoth  establishment. 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  185 

Eight  o'clock  found  her  there,  and  she  made  known 
her  errand  in  faltering  words — it  was  her  first  battle 
\vith  the  great  world. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  answered  the  manager,  "  you  are  the  per 
son  no  doubt  to  whom  Mr.  Sinclair  had  reference  this 
morning.  You  are  to  take  charge  of  the  ladies'  kid 
glove  department,  the  last  counter  to  the  right,  and 
facing  the  private  office." 

"  Can  I  not  commence  at  once?  "  asked  Rose,  and  to 
this  the  manager  assented ;  he  had  received  his  order 
previously. 

"  Step  this  way,  Miss Miss " 

"  My  name  is  Rose  Hall,"  she  said,  quietly. 

"  Follow  me,  Miss  Hall."  And  he  led  her  through 
the  throngs  of  richly  dressed  patrons,  past  the  array  of 
clerks  and  salesladies,  who  watched  her  with  furtive 
glances,  back  to  the  department  indicated.  "  Miss  Car 
son,"  he  said,  sharply,  addressing  a  tall,  slender  girl 
standing  behind  the  counter,  "  Miss  Hall  is  to  have 
charge  of  this  department  henceforth :  be  good  enough 
to  show  her  the  private  marks,  the  cost  prices,  and  so 
forth,  without  delay." 

Turning  on  his  heel,  he  walked  away  leaving  Edith 
Carson  and  Rose  Hall  standing  gazing  into  each  other's* 
face. 

Timidity  shone  in  the  dark  eyes  of  Rose,  bitter  dis* 
like  in  the  gray  eyes  of  Edith  Carson. 

Willard  Sinclair  sat  in  his  cushioned  arm-chair,  in  his 
private  office,  watching  Rose  through  the  plate-glass 
window,  with  a  curious  smile  on  his  face. 

"  She  is  more  beautiful  than  I  even  imagined  her  to 
be,"  he  thought,  complacently. 

Rose  secured  lodgings  with  two  or  three  of  the  other 


186      '  I'RKTT 


girls  employed  in  the  store.  Then  the  great  struggle  of 
life  began,  with  its  hardships,  its  petty  jealousies,  and 
all  the  heart-aches  that  fall  to  the  lot  of  a  girl  \vho  is 
forced  upon  the  cold  world  to  earn  her  bread. 

If  Rose  Hall  had  been  plain  of  face,  and  timid  and 
unobtrusive  in  manner,  her  life  might  have  been  un 
eventful  enough,  but  with  a  face  as  gloriously  beautiful 
as  a  dream,  in  its  rich,  dark,  glowing  beauty,  many  a 
pitfall  was  dug  for  her  unwary  feet.  To  Rose  Hall 
beauty  was  a  curse  instead  of  a  divine  blessing.  It  was 
not  long  before  it  was  noticed  how  Willard  Sinclair, 
the  handsome  young  proprietor,  watched  her  as  he 
passed  through  the  emporium,  and  from  the  office  win 
dow;  this  alone  was  enough  to  rouse  the  bitterest 
hatred  against  poor  hapless  Rose  in  the  hearts  of  the 
other  young  salesladies. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

The  summer  days  had  given  place  to  autumn,  and 
autumn  had  settled  into  the  dread  frosts  of  winter,  and 
still  Rose  Hall  remained  at  the  mammoth  dry-goods 
emporium  of  Sinclair  &  Hollisbury. 

A  few  days  after  Rose  had  entered  the  establishment, 
Willard  Sinclair  had  been  hastily  called  away  on  busi 
ness  ;  therefore  the  little  plans  he  had  laid  out,  in  which 
beautiful  Rose  was  the  principal  figure,  had  to  be  laid 
by  for  a  time.  The  snowflakes  were  flying  in  the  crisp 
December  air  ere  he  returned,  lie  found  Rose  paler, 
but  quite  a£  pretty  as  ever. 

In  the  interim,  Rose's  life,  either  at  the  store  or  at 
her  lodgings,  which  she  shared  with  Edith  Carson,  had 
little  sunshine  in  it.  It  was  exceedingly  hard  to  get 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL.  187 

along  with  Edith — she  was  so  jealous  of  the  attentions 
one  and  all  paid  to  Rose. 

Straightway  Edith  had  informed  her  of  their  hand 
some  young  employer's  reputation  outside  the  limits  of 
the  social  world.  She  "  posted  her  thoroughly,"  to 
use  her  own  expression,  on  the  danger  that  lurked  in 
Willard  Sinclair's  smile. 

"  I  would  advise  you  to  turn  your  head  away  when 
you  see  him  coming  in  your  direction,  and  avoid  see 
ing  or  speaking  to  him  when  you  can,"  pursued  Edith 
— "  of  course  you  wouldn't  dream  of  such  folly  as  set 
ting  your  cap  for  him,  for  I  warn  you  he  is  not  a  marry 
ing  man — or,  if  he  ever  did  marry,  it  would  be  some 
grand  society  belle  worth  her  millions,  not  one  of  his 
poor  dependent  salesladies,  you  can  depend  on  that !  " 
"  I  shall  remember  all  you  say,  Edith,  and  profit  by 
it,"  declared  Rose. 

And  she  did  remember.  Hearing  so  much  of  the  gos 
sip  of  the  young  girls  concerning  him  caused  Rose  to 
have  quite  a  dread  of  Willard  Sinclair  by  the  time  he 
returned. 

Employment  for  the  hands  and  employment  for  the 

*  brain,   together  with   constant  companionship,   is  the 

j  greatest  panacea  for  human  woes  that  the  world  has 

;•   ever  provided.    With  all  the  tragic  sorrow  Rose  Hall 

I   had  gone  through,  she  would  have  died,  or  gone  mad, 

!    had  she  not  thrown  herself  into  the  vortex  of  work. 

She  had  no  time  to  think — no  time  to  brood  over  her 

;    sorrow ;  if  she  had  allowed  herself  to  think  of  Royal 

Montague  and  Lillian  she  could  not  have  endured  it. 

One  thrilling  incident  alone  broke  upon  the  weari 
some  monotony. 


188  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 


One  day  a  customer  had  returned  with  a  pair  of 
gloves,  which  she  wished  exchanged. 

Rose  took  the  package  from  the  lady's  hands,  unfold 
ing  the  bit  of  newspaper  which  the  customer  had 
wrapped  about  them.  She  was  just  about  to  brush  it 
into  the  waste-paper  basket  when  one  of  the  headlines 
caught  her  eye,  and  held  her  spellbound. 

Long  after  the  customer  had  left  her,  Rose  Hall 
stood  there,  white  as  marble,  staring  at  the  bit  of 
crumpled  newspaper  she  held  in  her  hand. 

The  date  was  intact — two  days  subsequent  to  the  dis 
aster  to  the  steamer,  that  terrible  night  on  the  Hudson, 
which  had  so  nearly  cost  her  her  life. 

The  headline  bore  this  startling  caption : 

"  THE  TRUE  FATE  OF  OSRIC  LAWRENCE!  •" 

Half  a  column  was  devoted  to  the  article.  It  spoke  ; 
of  the  rinding  of  the  body  of  a  man  which  the  waves 
had  cast  up  on  the  shore  near  Fishkill,  and  the  thrill 
ing  discovery  that  the  man  had  been  disguised.  The 
body  had  been  identified  as  that  of  Osric  Lawrence,  one 
of  the  convicts  who  had  been  supposed  to  have  lost  his' 
life  at  the  time  of  the  prison  fire,  the  incidents  of) 
which  had  been  chronicled  in  those  columns  at  the 
time,  together  with  Osric  Lawrence's  history. 

The  description  of  the  disguised  body  tallied  with' 
that  of  the  passenger  who  had  been  lost  off  the 
steamer.  Thus  it  was  that  Osric  Lawrence,  who  might 
have  been  an  ornament  to  society,  through  his  pleas 
ing  manner,  his  gifts  of  mind  and  accomplishments, 
had  met  an  untimely  fate. 

The  newspaper  item  closed  with  these  words,  which 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  189 

seemed  to  dance  in  letters  of  fire  before  the  eyes  of 
Rose  Hall : 

"  The  body  of  the  other  passenger  who  was  lost  on 
the  ill-fated  steamer  that  night — a  young  and  lovely 
bride— has  never  been  recovered." 

Rose  Hall  drew  a  deep  breath.  So  Osric  Lawrence 
was  really  dead  at  last.  He  would  cross  her  path 
never  again. 

There  had  been  a  time  when  she  would  have  cried 
out  to  Heaven  in  thankfulness,  not  for  the  death  of  a 
human  being,  but  because  she  had  been  set  free  from 
the  terrible  fetters  that  were  wearing  her  life  away. 

Osric  Lawrence's  life  or  death  mattered  little  to  her 
now.  She  had  believed  him  to  be  a  barrier  between 
Royal  Montague's  love  and  her  own ;  but  she  had  been 
all  wrong,  it  was  Lillian  whom  Royal  had  loved,  not 
her — Heaven  help  her ! 

Rose  was  more  quiet  than  ever  the  remainder  of  that 
day,  and  her  face  was  paler.  This  was  all  that  be 
trayed  the  emotion  she  felt. 

Willard  Sinclair  had  been  home  a  week.  Each  day 
he  passed  and  repassed  Rose's  department ;  but  the 
girl's  eyes  were  sure  to  droop  when  she  heard  his  foot 
step  and  she  never  raised  her  white  lids  until  he  had 
passed  her. 

This  state  of  affairs  rendered  Willard  Sinclair  bitter 
with  anger. 

"  The  idea  of  a  pretty  shop-girl  whom  I  rescued  from 
the  very  jaws  of  starvation  taking  such  high  and 
mighty  airs  with  me,"  he  muttered.  "  By  the  eternal, 
I'll  not  brook  it !  The  little  beauty  shall  feel  my  power 
here." 

Once  Rose  had  been  sent  for  to  come  to  the  office, 


190  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

and  the  way  her  employer  took  her  hand  to  lead  her  to 
a  seat,  and  the  glance  he  bent  from  his  bold  eyes  upon 
her,  caused  Rose's  heart  to  throb  with  alarm  at  once. 

She  snatched  her  little  hand  from  his  grasp  with  a 
flash  of  the  rising-,  willful  anger  and  impetuosity  of  old. 

"  You  sent  for  me,  Mr.  Sinclair/'  she  said,  stiffly.  "  I 
prefer  to  stand  and  learn  what  it  is  that  you  want 
with  me." 

"  Come,  come,  Miss  Hall/'  he  said.  "  I  do  hope  we 
are  not  going  to  quarrel.  I  want  to  become  the  best  of 
friends  with  you,  if  possible/'  and  again  that  peculiar 
look  flitted  over  his  face  as  he  gazed  at  pretty  Rose, 
while  he  twirled  the  ends  of  his  tawny  mustache  with 
his  white  aristocratic  hand. 

Wild  and  reckless  though  this  handsome  young  mer 
chant  prince  was,  he  never  forgot  the  graceful  dignity 
with  which  this  fair  young  girl  drew  herself  up  proudly 
as  she  answered : 

"  There  is  one  way,  sir,  and  one  way  only  in  which 
you  could  command  my  respect  and  friendship." 

"  I  should  like  to  be  enlightened/'  he  declared,  iron 
ically. 

"  That  one  way,"  repeated  Rose,  raising  those  won 
drous  dark  eyes  to  his  face,  "  is  to  leave  me  quite 
alone." 

Willard  Sinclair  opened  his  eyes  very  wide. 

"  Dictated  to  by  one  of  my  salesgirls !  "  he  muttered 
under  his  breath.  "  Well,  well,  this  is  decidedly  rich !  " 

Had  he  met  beautiful  Rose  Hall  in  the  great  world 
of  society  he  would  have  been  the  pink  of  propriety 
and  chivalrous  courtesy,  but  with  a  paid  dependent  in 
his  own  establishment  that  was  quite  a  different  affair. 
Her  evident  scorn  and  disgust  piqued  him. 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  191 

"  I  will  show  her,"  he  thought,  "  that  those  little  airs 
and  graces  are  lost  upon  me." 

He  did  not  mean  to  be  rude  to  her,  still  he  intended 
that  she  should  worship  at  his  shrine,  as  the  generality 
of  women  did. 

He  would  wrin  her  heart  he  promised  himself,  and 
after  that — ah,  well — the  young  debonair  merchant 
never  worried  himself  in  thinking  of  the  dark  clouds 
in  the  future :  the  heart  of  a  young  girl  was  nothing 
to  handsome  Willard  Sinclair. 

"  So  you  wish  to  know  why  it  is  that  I  sent  for  you 
this  morning,  fair  Rose,"  he  said  musingly. 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  she  said  with  dignity,  her  cheeks 
flaming  scarlet  with  wounded  pride  at  being  addressed 
so  familiarly,  "  I  should  be  very  grateful  if  you  would 
not  talk  to  me  so ;  I — " 

A  low  mocking  laugh  interrupted  her. 

"  I  sincerely  hope  you  are  not  going  to  be  prudish, 
Miss  Hall,"  he  said ;  "  if  there  is  anything  I  do  detest  it 
is  a  prude;  really,  now,  prudery  does  not  become  fresh, 
fair,  pretty  faces  like  yours ;  leave  that  for  homely  old 
maids ;  my  advice  is  wholesome  I  assure  you." 

Rose  shrunk  from  him  in  unspeakable  horror,  scorn 
and  disgust  blazing  from  her  great  black  eyes,  and  be 
fore  he  could  utter  another  word  she  had  turned  and 
quitted  the  office. 

It  happened  to  be  Saturday  afternoon  when  this  little 
episode  occurred,  and  an  hour  later  when  the  office-boy 
brought  around  the  small  envelope  containing  the 
money  for  the  week's  work,  Rose  discovered  to  her 
great  dismay  that  half  of  her  slim  salary,  which 
amounted  to  but  five  dollars  per  week,  had  been  de 
ducted. 


192  PRETTY    ROSE   HALL. 

Rose  put  the  remainder  in  her  purse  and  walked 
home  with  a  death-white  face  and  troubled  sinking  of 
the  heart. 

"  I  shall  leave  at  once  if  I  am  to  be  treated  as  badly 
as  this,''  Rose  concluded,  "  and  get  into  some  other 
place  where  I  will  meet  with  due  respect." 

The  next  morning  upon  reaching  the  emporium  Rose 
was  informed  that  she  had  been  transferred  to  the  cos 
tume  department. 

"  I'm  sorry  for  you,  Rose,"  declared  Edith  Carson, 
while  at  heart  she  was  secretly  delighted.  "  You  will 
find  it  was  perfect  heaven  here  compared  to  what  it  is 
there;  you  will  earn  all  you  make  in  the  costume  de 
partment  I  assure  you." 

There  was  one  thing  Rose  was  thankful  for — she  was 
removed  from  the  constant  gaze  of  Willard  Sinclair. 

The  forewoman  of  the  costume  department  looked 
at  Rose's  slim  white  hands  with  forbidding  eyes. 

"  It's  very  particular  work  here,"  she  declared ;  "  and 
a  novice  would  ruin  the  fine  imported  silks  and  velvets. 
The  order  we  have  to  fill  now  is  of  the  most  particular 
kind;  I  do  not  know  whether  I  ought  to  trust  you  to 
run  up  the  seams  or  not ;  it's  a  wedding-dress — a  gor 
geous  affair  of  white  satin  and  lace.  It's  for  a  wealthy: 
young  society  gentleman's  bride-elect,  who  is  too  sen-j 
sible  to  send  off  to  Worth  to  get  her  wedding-dress- 
made;  and  a  fine  young  lady  handsome  Royal  Mon-| 
tague  will  get  when  he  weds  her — why,  by  the  way| 
her  name  is  your  own — a  common  enough  name  in  thif 
country  I  should  say — Hall — Lillian  Hall  is  her  name, 
but  instead  of  being  dark  like  you  she  is  as  fair  as 
angel ! " 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  193 

The  girl  standing  before  her  as  pallid  as  death  itself 
made  no  reply. 

It  was  Lillian's  wedding-dress  then  that  was  to  be 
made.  Lillian  was  to  wed  the  lover  who  had  wrecked 
the  life,  love  and  happiness  of  hapless  Rose  Hall. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

"  An  elegant  wedding-dress,  isn't  it?  "  continued  the 
forewoman,  shaking  out  the  rich,  gleaming  satin  and 
foamy  lace.  "  How  beautiful  she  will  look  in  it.  Her 
handsome  lover  will  be  proud  of  her  and  no  wonder. 
Why,  what  are  you  doing,  girl?"  cried  the  forewoman 
in  alarm.  "  You  are  ruining  the  goods !  " 

The  shimmering  white  satin  had  slipped  from  Rose's 
nerveless  fingers,  and  she  had  fallen  face  downward 
among  the  soft  laces  in  a  dead  faint. 

4i  Dear  me,  what  in  the  world  could  Mr.  Sinclair  have 
meant  to  send  any  one  addicted  to  fainting  fits !  it 
really  won't  do." 

Still  she  felt  sorry  for  Rose  when  the  girl's  dark 
:yes  opened,  with  the  dreariest  look  in  their  dark 
depths  that  she'had  ever  beheld. 

"Are  you  ill?"  she  queried,  gazing  down  into  the 
white  face. 

"  It  was  only  a  sharp  pain  at  my  heart,"  replied  Rose, 
"  I — I  am  used  to  them." 

"  I  do  hope  you  haven't  ruined  Miss  Hall's  wedding- 
dress.  I- 

She  did  not  finish  her  sentence,  for  at  that  moment  a 
tall,  graceful  girl  clad  in  rich  blue  velvet  and  ermine 
fur,  opened  the  glass  door  at  the  other  end  of  the  apart 
ment  and  glided  in. 

"  Dear  me !  "  cried  the  forewoman,  gathering  up  the 


194  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

satin  and  lace  with  alacrity,  "  '  speak  of  angels  and  you 
hear  the  rustle  of  the  wings ;  if  here  isn't  Miss  Lillian 
Hall  herself.  Just  step  in  behind  those  curtains,  these 
very  fine  young  ladies  often  object  to  curious  appren 
tices  being  present  when  they  come  to  see  about  their; 
dresses." 

Rose  staggered  back  into  the  little  recess  indicated, 
barely  in  time  to  escape  observation. 

With  hands  clasped  tightly  over  her  beating  heart^ 
Rose  listened  intently  to  every  word  that  fell  fromi 
Lillian's  red  lips. 

She  drew  the  heavy  curtains  ever  so  slightly  apart,  j 
that  she  might  have  a  full  view  of  her  sister's  face. 

Ah,  me,  how  happy  Lillian  looked ;  the  light  of  lovej 
beamed  in  her  blue  eyes,  a  happy  smile  played  abouq 
her  lips. 

She  had  come  to  give  the  necessary  instructions  in  r 
gard  to  her  costumes. 

Rose  heard  her  tell,  in  her  sweet,  hesitating  way,  tha 
her  marriage  was  to  take  place  on  Christmas  Eve.  Sh 
intended  to  pass  the  winter  abroad,  and  in  all  proba 
bility  they  would  return  home  the  following  spring 
Mr.  Montague  was  building  a  residence  on  Fifth  Ave 
nue,  and  it  would  not  be  ready  for  occupancy  till  ther 

The  darkness  of  death  seemed  to  close  around  Ros 
as  she  listened. 

How  completely  they  had  forgotten  her,  these  two 
she  was  less  than  nothing  to  them.  They  would  marr 
and  be  happy,  for  they  loved  each  other. 

She  was  not  the  first  young  girl  in  this  world  who! 
loved  with  all  the  passionate,  worshipful  love  of  her  \ 
heart,  one  of  whom  in  turn,  loved  another. 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

Lillian  had  won  Royal  Montague  from  her,  yet,  in 
her  heart,  she  could  not  quite  hate  her  for  it. 

In  the  past,  Lillian  and  Royal  had  loved  each  other. 
She  could  not  help  remembering  Lillian's  heroic  self- 
sacrifice  in  the  past,  when,  without  a  murmur,  she  had 
given  up  the  lover,  whose  love  was  more  to  her  than  all 
else  on  earth. 

One  of  the  cash  boys  from  the  emporium  appeared  at 
length  with  a  message  that  Mr.  Montague  was  in  his 
carriage  before  the  door  awaiting  Miss  Hall's  pleasure. 
Lillian  blushed,  as  she  always  did  when  her  lover  was 
mentioned,  and  a  few  moments  later  took  her  depar 
ture. 

Rose  strained  her  eyes  to  watch  them  as  they  drove 
away  behind  a  handsome  pair  of  bays. 

She  noticed  how  tenderly  he  lifted  Lillian  into  the 
vehicle,  and  how  handsome  he  looked  as  he  took  his 
seat  beside  her,  and  the  glittering  equipage  dashed  out 
of  sight. 

Lillian  had  caught  sight  of  the  white,  tear-stained 
face  pressed  close  against  the  window-pane,  and  she 
sunk  back  among  the  garnet  cushions  with  a  little 
stiffed  cry,  clutching  eagerly  at  her  lover's  arm. 

"  Look,  Royal,"  she  cried  out,  in  a  fluttering  voice— 
**  look  at  that  face  up  at  the  window  there !  It  reminded 
/ne  so  much  of — of  our  poor  lost  Rose/' 

\Yhen  Royal  Montague  raised  his  eyes  to  the  window 
indicated,  the  face  had  disappeared. 

"  It  was  merely  your  fancy,  my  darling,"  said  Royal, 

uler'iy.  "  You  are  nervous — you  must  not  allow  your 
thoughts  to  dwell  upon  it.  You  and  I  both  know  that 

r  poor  Rose  lies  beneath  the  waves  of  the  restless 


196  PRETTY    ROSE   HALL. 

Hudson.    We  will  not  refer  to  the  past — the  subject  is 
such  a  painful  one." 

He  talked  to  Lillian  upon  other  matters,  and  by  the 
time  they  reached  home  he  had  succeeded  in  banishing 
entirely  from  her  mind  the  memory  of  the  face  at  the 
window  which  had  startled  her  so. 

When  Royal  Montague  had  gone  to  Mrs.  Hall,  long 
months  after  the  supposed  death  of  Rose,  and  asked  for 
the  hand  of  the  granddaughter,  Lillian,  Mrs.  Hall  had 
been  greatly  surprised.  She  could  not  understand  how 
one  who  had  loved  beautiful,  daring,  willful  Rose  could 
learn  to  love  gentle,  fair-haired  Lillian,  who  was  quite 
the  reverse  in  all  things  of  her  lovely  young  sister. 

Tears  welled  up  in  the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Hall. 

"I  had  hoped  to  see  you  the  loving  husband  of  dar 
ling  Rose,"  she  said ;  "  but  now  that  she  has  been  taken 
from  you,  and  you  will  one  day  marry,  no  doubt  it  may 
^s  well  be  Lillian  as  a  stranger — that  is,  if  you  can  care 
for  each  other." 

That  was  the  answer  Royal  took  back  to  Lillian,  and  j 
the  announcement  of  their  engagement  soon  followed. 

Mrs.  Hall  made  preparations  for  a  handsome  wed-- 
ding,  but  never,  even  for  one  moment,  could  she  forget 
Rose — the  beautiful  dark  face  with  its  roguish  dimples,- 
and  saucy,  smiling,  crimson  mouth,  and  the  great,  dark; 
Hmpid  eyes  were  ever  before  her.  She  had  made  anj 
idol  of  Rose,  and  our  idols  are  always  shattered. 

Meanwhile  the  days  that  were  speeding  on  were  dart 
days  to  Rose  Hall.    There  was  scarcely  a  day  when  she 
was  free  from  the  persecutions  of  Willard  Sinclair;  hi: 
open  flattery  annoyed  and  oppressed  her.     More  thai 
once  she  had  encountered  him  on  her  way  home,  ant 


r  PRETTY    ROSE   HALL.  197 

of  late  he  had  dropped  into  the  habit  of  calling  at  her 
lodgings  op  slight  excuses. 

This  terrified  Rose  more  than  all  the  rest,  and  at  last 
she  made  up  her  mind  to  quit  the  establishment  of  Sin 
clair  &  Hollisbury  and  seek  employment  elsewhere, 
where  she  could  have  peace. 

Willard  Sinclair's  anger,  when  she  sent  in  her  resig 
nation,  knew  no  bounds. 

On  the  self-same  evening  she  encountered  him  on  her 
way  home. 

It  had  been  snowing  hard  all  day,  and  the  streets 
were  quite  covered  with  the  white  snow-drifts.  Still 
the  snow  was  falling  heavily,  rendering  near  objects, 
in  the  fast-gathering  darkness,  almost  indiscernible. 

Rose  was  making  her  way  through  the  heavy  drifts 
when  a  hand  was  laid  heavily  on  her  arm,  and,  glancing 
hurriedly  up,  she  found  herself  face  to  face  with  Wil 
lard  Sinclair.  Her  heart  gave  a  quick  throb  of  fear,  for 
she  noticed  that  his  face  was  flushed  with  anger,  and 
the  fumes  of  wine  were  upon  his  breath. 

"  I  understand  you  are  intending  to  leave  us,  pretty 
Rose/'  he  said,  grasping  the  girl's  arm  firmly,  forcing  it 
within  his  own,  compelling  her  to  walk  on  with  him. 

"  What's  the  reason  of  that,  may  I  ask?  " 

'"'  Pardon  me,  sir ;  I  should  not  care  to  reveal  to  you 
the  exact  reasons  for  leaving  your  employ ;  you  ought 
to  be  able  to  guess  what  they  are.  I  would  be  glad  if 
you  would  kindly  leave  rne ;  I  prefer  going  to  my  lodg 
ings  by  myself." 

Willard  Sinclair  laughed  uproariously,  grasping  the 
slender  arm  still  closer. 

"  Do  you  think  I  shall  lose  you  so  easily  as  that?  "  he 
cried,  his  eyes  blazing.  "  One  does  not  care  to  see  a 


198  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

beautiful  bird  fly  away  that  he  has  had  so  hard  a  time 
in  caging." 

Rose  saw  that  the  young  man  was  beyond  reasoning 
with. 

"  If  I  were  to  permit  you  to  go,"  he  went  on,  quickly, 
"  I  would  not  only  lose  sight  of  the  prettiest  face  I  have 
ever  beheld — a  face  that  has  driven  me  to  despair  with 
its  wondrous  beauty — but  I  might  hear  the  story  of  my 
infatuation  for  my  pretty  saleslady  gossiped  over  by 
idle  tongues,  and  I  could  not  brook  that.  You  shall  not 
repeat  the  story  elsewhere;  I  shall  prevent  it." 

"  I  should  never  think  of  mentioning  your  name  when 
I  leave  your  employ,  I  assure  you,"  declared  Rose, 
haughtily.  "  On  the  contrary,  it  will  be  a  great  pleas 
ure  to  me  be  able  to  forget  you." 

He  bent  nearer  to  the  girl's  lovely  flushed  face. 

"  What  if  I  cared  for  you  enough  to  marry  you — 
what  then,  Rose?"  he  asked.  "What  if  I  told  you  I 
loved  you  ?  " 

"  Please  do  not  mention  love  to  me,  Mr.  Sinclair;  I 
could  not  endure  it.  Let  me  think  as  kindly  of  you  as 
I  can,  by  leaving  me  at  once." 

"  I  shall  never  leave  you  again,  beautiful  Rose!  "  he- 
cried,  angered  intensely  by  her  persistent  entreaties. 
"  I  shall  not  only  prevent  you  from  repeating  what  has  I 
happened,  but  I  shall  make  you  mine,  whether  you 
will  or  no !  " 

The  influence  of  the  wine  was  strong  upon  him ;  he 
scarcely  realized  what  he  was  doing  when  he  clasped 
his  arm  about  the  slender  figure  and  kissed  the  beauti 
ful  face  of  the  girl  struggling  so  frantically  in  his  firm 
embrace. 

A  piercing  cry  sprung  to  Rose's  lips  that  brought 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL.  199 


Willard  Sinclair  to  his  senses ;  but  before  he  could  re 
lease  her  and  frame  any  sort  of  apology,  a  young  man 
walking  behind  them,  who  had  taken  in  the  situation 
of  affairs  at  a  glance,  suddenly  sprung  forward,  his 
honest  face  fairly  glowing  with  rage  and  indignation. 

"  Take  that  for  annoying  a  lady,  you  scoundrel !  "  he 
cried,  and  in  an  instant  the  young  merchant  prince,  the 
courted,  petted  lion  of  society,,  measured  his  length  in 
the  white  snow-drifts,  by  a  well-directed  blow,  from 
the  strangers  muscular  arm. 

At  the  first  vibration  of  the  stranger's  voice,  Rose 
had  shrunk  back  pale  as  death,  drawing  her  thick  veil 
hurriedly  over  her  face.  It  was  Royal  Montague! 

Willard  Sinclair  rose  to  his  feet,  white  with  rage. 

"  You  shall  render  an  account  to  me  for  interfering 
in  my  affairs !  "  he  said,  furiously.  "  Give  me  your  ad 
dress." 

"  I  am  at  your  disposal  at  any  time,  sir,"  said  Royal 
Montague,  tossing  his  card  at  him.  "  Suffer  this  young 
lady  to  pass  you  at  once,  or  I  shall  repeat  the  lesson  I 
have  just  given  you.  Stand  aside,  I  say !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

"  Allow  this  young  lady  to  pass,"  repeated  Royal 
Montague,  haughtily.  "  Stand  aside,  I  say !  " 

Willard  Sinclair  turned  abruptly  on  his  heel. 

"  We  shall  meet  again,  Mr.  Montague,"  he  said. 
"  And,  as  for  you,  girl/'  turning  to  Rose,  "  you  have 
made  a  relentless  enemy  to-night !  " 

The  next  instant  he  was  walking  rapidly  away. 

"Can  I  assist  you  further?"  asked  Royal,  kindly, 
turning  to  the  slight  figure  so  closely  veiled.  "  You 
have  had  a  most  unpleasant  adventure." 


200  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

'  You  have  been  very  kind  ;  you  can  render  me  no 
further  assistance,  thank  you,  and  good-night,"  an 
swered  a  low,  musical  voice  that  struck  Royal  as  sound 
ing  strangely  familiar. 

He  raised  his  hat  courteously,  the  girl  bowed  and 
glided  swiftly  away. 

Royal  stood  gazing  thoughtfully  after  her. 

"  I  can  not  rid  myself  of  the  impression  that  I  have 
met  that  girl  before — the  voice,  the  inclination  of  the 
head,  the  gesture  of  the  little  hand  seem  oddly  famil 
iar/'  he  mused. 

He  hailed  a  passing  coupe,  sprung  into  it,  and  was 
soon  whirling  rapidly  homeward.  An  hour  afterward 
he  was  in  Lillian's  presence,  and  had  quite  forgotten 
the  little  incident. 

Words  are  powerless  to  express  the  feelings  of  Rose 
Hall  as  she  wended  her  way  through  the  snow-drifts 
to  her  lonely  lodgings. 

At  the  first  glance  at  his  handsome  face,  the  vibra 
tions  of  the  beloved  voice,  the  heart  in  her  bosom 
seemed  to  stand  still ;  a  mad  impulse  came  over  her  to 
fling  herself  at  his  feet,  crying  out,  "  Oh,  Royal,  Royal, 
don't  you  know  me  ?  Take  me  back  to  your  heart ! 
Love  me  a  little,  or  I  shall  die !  " 

Only  Heaven  knew  what  the  girl  suffered  in  the 
effort  to  repress  the  despairing  cry  trembling  on  her 
white  lips. 

"  I  wrecked  his  life  and  Lillian's  once.  I  must  not 
do  it  again,"  she  muttered,  pressing  her  hand  over  her 
throbbing  heart.  "  He  would  hate  me  for  it,  and  I 
could  never  bear  that." 

Oh,  if  he  had  but  loved  her,  now  that  there  was  no 


PRETTY    KOSI-;    MALL.  201 

barrier  between  them,  how  different  life  might  have 
been  for  her! 

She  had  tried  to  school  her  heart  to  think  of  him 
calmly,  but  at  the  very  sound  of  his  voice  all  the  smold 
ering  flame  of  love  burst  into  life  again,  all  the  old,  pas 
sionate  love  sprung  into  her  heart  a  thousand  times 
stronger  than  ever. 

That  night  the  dark  head  of  Rose  Hall  tossed  rest- 
on  her  pillow,  and  in  the  solemn  hush  of  the 
:'ght  hour,  strange  thoughts  came  to  her.  Why 
should  Lillian  be  happy  in  his  love,  while  she  was 
doomed  to  the  bitterness  of  despair.  It  would  be  so 
easy  for  her  to  part  them.  All  she  would  have  to  do 
would  be  to  make  her  presence  known  to  Lillian,  and 
claim  Royal  Montague  as  her  own  wedded  husband. 
No  one  knew  the  story  of  the  past.  There  was  but 
one  witness  against  her — to  step  out  of  that  dark,  dim 
past — the  register  in  the  vestry  of  the  dim,  old  church 
at  \Yilton  ;  she  remembered  what  was  recorded  there— 
carriage  of  Osric  Lawrence  and  Rose  Hall. 

"  Let  me  try  to  forget  that  one  act  of  folly,"  she  cried 
out,  sharply — "  let  me  think  that  my  life  dates  from  the 
moment  I  first  met  Royal  Montague !  " 

She  could  not  still  the  passionate  yearning  of  her 
heart  that  cried  out  so  strongly  for  Royal  Montague's 
love. 

Oh,  the  mighty  power  of  unsubdued  love  that 
throbbed  in  her  heart,  influencing  every  thought  and 
shaping  every  action ! 

Yes,  she  could  claim  him.    No  one  would  know. 

Let  this  much  be  said  for  her — poor,  hapless  Rose 
Hall — she  did  not  realize  the  terrible  sin  in  which  she 


L0_  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

was  about  to  plunge  herself;  she  was  blinded  by  the 
mighty  power  of  love. 

She  loved  him  so  well,  death  would  have  been  easier 
to  bear  than  to  see  him  pass  out  of  her  life  forever. 
She  saw  a  way  by  which  he  might  be  hers. 

It  would  not  be  so  hard  for  Lillian  to  give  him  up  as 
it  would  be  for  her  to  lose  him ;  for  had  not  Lillian 
given  him  up  once  before,  when  she  learned  how  dearly 
she — Rose — loved  him?  How  she  would  kneel  at  Lil 
lian's  feet  and  pray  her  not  to  hate  her  for  separating 
them. 

Lillian  was  as  sweet  and  good  as  an  angel.  She 
knew  that  she  would  clasp  her  white  arms  around  her 
and  tell  her,  "  Do  not  grieve  for  me,  Rose  dear  I  will 
give  him  up  to  you  without  a  murmur,  since  it  is  God's 
will.  You  are  restored  to  us  from  the  very  grave — that , 
will  be  recompense  and  solace  enough  for  me." 

How  should  she  account  for  the  time  that  had  inter 
vened  since  the  night  of  the  explosion  up  to  the  present 
time?  She  would  tell  them  how  she  had  been  picked 
up  unconscious  on  the  white  sand  by  the  old  farmer 
and  his  good  wife,  who  brought  her  to  their  home,  nurs 
ing  her  carefully  back  to  life  through  her  long  and 
dangerous  illness.  She  would  not  tell  them  she  had 
been  there  but  a  few  brief  weeks ;  let  them  think  she 
had  been  there  long  months,  if  they  would — up  to  the 
present  time. 

The  more  Rose  pondered  over  the  matter  the  greater 
her  yearning  became  to  take  her  place  in  the  great 
world  again  by  Royal  Montague's  side.  She  had 
fought  a  great  battle  with  herself,  and  found  that  she 
could  not  give  him  up  to  Lillian.  What  would  life  be 
worth  to  her  without  him? 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  203 

"  He  cared  for  me  once,"  she  told  herself,  leaning 
her  dark  head  upon  her  folded  arms.  "  Even  if  it  were 
but  a  passing  fancy,  why  may  I  not  fan  that  fancy  into 
flame?  A  great  love  wins  love;  his  heart  may  turn  to 
me  at  last.  It  must  turn  to  me!  I  will  win  him  by  my 
great  devotion — my  deep,  absorbing  love.  I  will  be  as 
patient  as  Griselda.  Yes,  the  time  will  come  when  he 
shall  love  me  !  " 

It  is  hard  to  change  a  woman's  resolution  when  love 
urges  her  on. 

The  next  morning  Rose  made  her  toilet  with  feverish 
haste,  and  bidding  adieu  to  the  lonely  room  where  she 
had  seen  so  much  privation  and  misery,  turned  her 
steps  toward  the  aristocratic  portion  of  the  city,  and 
to  the  home  of  luxury  in  which  Lillian  dwelt. 

She  knew  the  habits  of  the  family  well.  At  that 
hour  her  stately  grandmother  would  be  taking  her 
chocolate  in  her  owrn  room. 

Lillian  would  be  cutting  flowers  in  the  conservatory 
for  the  breakfast-table. 

She  would  go  to  the  side  entrance — it  would  be  best 
to  meet  Lillian  first — and  alone. 

The  footman  stared  amazed  at  the  shabbily  dressed 
young  person  so  closely  veiled,  who  stood  on  the 
marble  steps  requesting  to  see  Miss  Lillian. 

'*  You'll  have  to  go  round  to  the  basement  door  and 
wait  there  for  her,"  he  answered,  gruffly. 

But  at  that  moment  Rose  caught  sight  of  Lillian's 
dress  at  the  lower  end  of  the  corridor,  and  quick  as 
thought  she  had  dashed  past  him  and  gained  Lillian's 
side/ 

Lillian  turned  quickly  about,  gazing  in  kindly  sur 
prise  at  the  slender  young  girl  before  her. 


204  PRETTY    ROSE    IJALL. 

"  Who  is  it  you  wish  to  see?  "  she  asked,  gently. 

"  You,  Lillian/'  came  the  choked,  sobbing  answer 
from  behind  the  folds  of  the  thick,  dark  veil. 

Lillian  Hall  started  violently — the  cluster  of  roses 
she  held  in  her  hands  fell  to  the  floor  unheeded — who 
was  this  young  girl  who  came  to  her  in  the  garb  of  a 
stranger — yet  with  a  voice  so  like  the  voice  of — Rose? 

It  was  not  Celia  Derwent,  for  she  was  abroad,  had 
been  abroad  long  months,  and  she  would  not  return 
like  this. 

No,  it  was  certainly  not  Celia;  yet,  who  could  it  be 
who  spoke  her  name  thus  familiarly? 

She  trembled  in  spite  of  her  efforts  to  speak  calmly, 
as  she  endeavored  to  pierce  the  folds  of  the  stranger's 
veil. 

"  Be  seated,"  said  Lillian,  pointing  to  a  chair. 

"  Are>  we  quite  alone?  "  asked  the  sobbing  voice. 

*'  In  Heaven's  name  tell  me  who  you  are ! "  cried 
Lillian,  in  great  agitation.  u  Your  voice  affects  me — it 
is  so  like  the  voice  of  a  dear  one  whom  I  have  lost! 
Raise  your  veil,  and  tell  me  what  you  wish  x)f  me — we 
are  quite  alone  here." 

Ah,  how  fair  Lillian  looked,  standing  there  before 
her,  the  sunlight  drifting  in  from  an  adjacent  window 
streaming  upon  her  golden  hair  and  gentle  face.  Rose, 
knew  what  her  coming  would  bring  to  poor  Lillian. 
She  would  gain  a  sister,  but,  ah,  she  would  lose  a  lover. 
She  would  lose  the  one  to  whom  her  heart  had  gone 
out.  Would  Lillian  greet  her  with  joy,  or  would  she 
look  upon  her  sudden  reappearance  with  horror? 

Would  her  sister's  love  fail  her  now  that  they  both 
loved  the  same  man  ? 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  205 

She  was  dashing  the  cup  of  happiness  from  Lillian's 
lips  for  evermore. 

Slowly  she  drew  aside  the  folds  of  the  veil  and  stood 
before  Lillian. 

A  moment  of  thrilling  intensity  followed,  which  was 
broken  by  a  piercing  cry  from  Lillian's  lips !  The  sis 
ters  stood  face  to  face  at  last. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Lower  and  lower  dropped  Rose's  bowed  head  under 
the  horror-stricken  gaze  of  Lillian's  eyes,  and  a  voice 
like  no  other  voice — like  nothing  human — said  : 

"  Lillian,  darling,  do  you  not  know  me?  Am  I  so 
greatly  changed?" 

"  I  am  dazed,  bewildered,  alarmed !  "  cried  Lillian. 
"  If  it  were  not  that  I  know  her  to  be  dead,  I  should 
have  mistaken  you  for  my  lost  Rose — you  are  so  like 
her." 

"  I  am  Rose,"  said  the  girl,  humbly.  "  I  am  your  lost 
sister,  restored  to  you.  Oh,  Lillian,  Lillian,  have  you 
no  welcome  for  me?  I  have  suffered  wreck  and  illness 
that  brought  me  to  the  very  gates  of  death;  but  I  es 
caped  all  to  come  back  to  you !  " 

Lillian  Hall  was  too  utterly  shocked  to  find  words  in 
which  to  answer. 

'*  Lillian,"  cried  Rose  again,  coming  and  kneeling  at 
her  feet,  "  welcome  me,  dear !  Are  you  not  glad  that 
my  life  has  been  spared  to  you?" 

It  was  this  appeal  that  brought  Lillian  to  her  senses. 
The  shadow  of  doubt  cleared  from  her  noble  face,  she 
opened  her  arms  with  a  sobbing  cry,  and  in  an  instant 
the  dark  head  of  Rose  was  pillowed  on  her  faithful 
breast. 


PRETTY    ROSK    HALL. 

Lillian  realized  instantly  what  Rose's  coming  meant 
for  her,  but  she  put  the  thought  from  her.  Better  that 
true  love  lay  slain  and  dead  a  thousand  times,  and  have 
Rose,  her  darling  Rose,  spared  to  her.  She  would  have 
given  up  not  only  love,  but  life  itself  for  Rose. 

The  excitement  and  enthusiasm  Rose's  return  created 
knew  no  bounds.  How  her  grandmother  received  her! 
how  she  seemed  to  worship  her !  to  hang  upon  every 
word  and  look !  The  restoration  of  her  darling  seemed 
almost  as  wonderful  as  though  she  had  arisen  from  the 
dead.  When  she  found  herself  alone  with  Lillian,  Mrs. 
Hall  laid  her  hand  on  the  girl's  arm  with  a  white,  dis 
turbed  face. 

"  It  was  well  that  Rose  returned  to  us  in  time,  dear," 
she  said.  "  How  can  we  break  the  news  to  her  that — 
that  the  young  husband  from  whose  arms  she  was  so 
cruelly  torn  on  the  night  of  that  terrible  explosion,  was 
soon  to  wed  you,  Lillian?  It  will  break  her  heart." 

"  Then,  why  need  we  ever  tell  her,  grandma  ? " 
sobbed  Lillian.  "  Her  heart  must  never  be  wounded  by 
the  knowledge.  I — I  could  not  bear  to  stay  here,  now 
that  Rose  and  Royal  will  be  united.  I  will  go  quietly 
away — Rose  need  not  know  why.  I  am  sure  Royal 
will  wish  it  so." 

''Have  you  sent  for  Royal?"  asked  Mrs.  Hall,  ab 
ruptly  ;  "  if  not,  let  it  be  done  at  once,  and  upon  you 
Lillian,  devolves  the  task  of  breaking  the  news  to  him." 
She  drew  nearer  to  the  girl,  looking  anxiously  into  her 
blue,  upraised  eyes;  the  muscles  of  her  dear  old  face 
quivered \vith  motion.  "You  will  not  forget,  child," 
she  whispered,  "'  that  all  is  over  between  you  and 
Royal,  for  evermore  ;  he  is  your  lover  no  longer.  Do 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  201 

not  encourage  him  to  regret  Rose's  restoration — if  you 
see  such  a  tendency — " 

"  Grandma,"  said  the  girl,  her  fair  face  drooping, 
"  you  have  no  need  to  remind  me  in  which  path  duty 
and  honor  lie.  Pie  is  Rose's  husband,  therefore  quite 
safe  from  my  love." 

"  Let  not  a  moment  be  lost,  Lillian,"  said  Mrs.  Hall, 
huskily.  "  Send  for  Royal  at  once." 

Silently  she  turned  to  do  her  bidding.  She  walked 
quickly  to  her  own  room,  indited  a  brief  note  request 
ing  his  immediate  presence,  rang  the  bell  for  the  ser 
vant  and  dispatched  it.  Then  she  sat  quite  still,  look 
ing  her  future  in  the  face,  telling  herself  that  all  hope 
lay  dead  now ;  her  happy  love-dream  was  over. 

The  few  lines  she  had  written  was  the  letter  of  a  girl 
•whose  heart  was  breaking — eloquent,  passionate,  de 
spairing,  there  was  no  attempt  to  reason  it,  or  tell  him 
why  she  had  sent  for  him  so  hurriedly. 

An  hour  or  more  she  sat  there.  She  did  not  cry  out 
or  utter  any  moan,  but,  sinking  down  on  her  knees, 
lifted  her  white  arms  to  the  sunlit  sky  with  a  tremulous 
sigh,  murmuring,  brokenly: 

"  Let  my  sorrow  be  bridged  over  by  remembering 
that  Rose — my  darling  Rose — has  been  returned  to 
us!" 

Heaven  knew  best  why  her  happiness  was  to  be  laid 
a  second  time  in  ruins. 

Hastily  rising  from  her  knees  and  brushing  away 
all  traces  of  tears  from  her  face,  she  went -at  once  to 
Rose's  boudoir  to  prepare  her  for  Royal's  coming. 

Tenderly  she  arrayed  her  in  one  of  her  own  robes, 
smiling  through  her  gathering  tears  to  see  how  fair 
Rose  looked. 


208 


No  wonder  Rose  looked  pale,  passing  through  the 
terrible  experience  she  had  related  to  them. 

"  If  you  had  but  telegraphed  or  written  to  us  while 
you  were  at  that  farm-house  we  would  have  gone  on 
there  an*a  fetched  you  home,  oh,  so  gladly  !  "  said  Lil 
lian.  "  You  were  by  far  too  weak  to  travel  home  alone.'" 

Rose  wondered  what  Lillian  would  say  if  she  knew 
the  real  truth.  She  saw  how  pale  Lillian's  face  was, 
and  she  knew  what  brought  that  whiteness  there  ;  but 
it  was  too  late  to  draw  back  now,  and  give  him  up  to 
Lillian  —  besides,  she  told  herself,  Lillian's  love  for 
Royal  was  cold  and  calm  compared  to  her  own  pas 
sionate,  idolatrous  love  for  him.  The  power  of  love 
urged  her  on—  no,  she  could  not  give  him  up  to  Lillian, 
and  live. 


Royal  Montague  was  sitting  in  the  private  office  of 
his  father's  bank  when  Lillian's  note  was  brought  him 
by  a  special  messenger. 

He  blushed  like  a  school-boy  when  he  saw  the  mono 
gram  on  the  envelope  ;  he  knew  it  was  from  Lillian. 

He  smiled  when  he  saw  the  dainty  chirograph^! 
penned  by  the  hand  he  loved  so  well,  and  the  smile 
deepened  on  his  handsome  face  as  he  noted  the  words, 
"  in  haste,"  written  in  the  corner. 

He  wondered  what  his  darling  had  to  say  to  him  in 
such  haste  as  to  cause  her  to  write. 

He  tore  open  the  envelope,  glancing  with  mystified 
eyes  over  the  tear-stained  page.  He  could  not  make 
out  the  sense  of  it — he  simply  understood  that  some 
thing  unusual  had  happened,  and  Lillian  wished  his 
presence  at  once. 

His  sleigh  stood  before  the  door,  and.  drawing  on  his 


PRETTY    ROSI-:    HALL. 

gloves,  he  left  the  office,  and,  running  lightly  down  the 
steps,  sprung  into-  it  at  once,  turning  his  horse's  head 
in  the  direction  of  Lillian's  home. 

As  he  passed  a  florist's  window  he  espied  great  clus 
ters  of  dewy  carnations  and,  thinking  Lillian  would  be 
sure  to  be  pleased  with  them-,  selected  a  large  bouquet 
for  her. 

A  few  moments  later  he  had  reached  the  house.  He 
was  a  privileged  person  there,  and  went  at  once  to  the 
morning-room,  where  he  believed  he  should  find  his 
sweetheart.  No  graceful  form  sprung  to  meet  him 
with  outstretched  hands — no  rosy,  blushing  face  was 
turned  expectantly  from  the  sunlit  window  when  the 
door  was  opened — the  room  was  quite  empty. 

He  laid  the  carnations  down  upon  the  table,  and 
touched  the  bell. 

"  Tell  Miss  Lillian  I  am  here,"  he  said  to  the  servant 
who  answerd  the  summons. 

A  half  hour  passed,  yet  Lillian  did  not  make  her  ap 
pearance.  She  had  sent  for  him  "  in  haste,"  yet  seemed 
in  no  hurry  to  come  to  him. 

At  length  he  heard  footsteps  approaching  slowly  in 
the  corridor  without,  and  he  heard  the  rustle  of  a 
woman's  dress. 

He  knew  it  was  Lillian,  for  her  approach  was  always 
heralded  by  the  faint  odor  of  heliotrope. 

He  sprung  from  the  sofa  on  which  he  had  been 
seated,  advancing  to  meet  her  with  eager  warmth  and 
open  arms,  love-light  shining  on  his  handsome  face  and 
•in  his  eyes. 

His  arms  fell  motionless  by  his  side,  and  a  cry  of  as 
tonishment  burst  from  his  lips  at  the  white  face  that 
was  turned  toward  him  from  the  door-wav.  He  would 


210  PRETTY    ROSE   HALL. 

have  sprung  to  her  side  and  clasped  her  in  his  arms, 
bnt  she  shrunk  from  him  with  a  pained,  scared  face. 

;<  You  must  not  touch  me,  Royal,"  she  whispered, 
standing  before  him,  with  her  big  blue  eyes  raised 
piteously  to  his  face  and  her  little  hands  locked  tightly 
together.  "  Something  has  happened  which  parts  us 
•forever." 

"  Lillian  !  "  cried  Royal  Montague,  in  the  most  in 
tense  astonishment,  "what  on  earth  do  you  mean? 
You  are  trying  to  get  up  a  sensation  to  frighten  me, 
dear,  and  to  test  my  love  for  you !  " 

"Hush,  Royal!"  she  cried.     "It  is  quite  true.     A] 
barrier  has  risen  suddenly  between  us,  which — " 

He  looked  at  her  curiously.  It  was  no  girlish  jest, 
he  was  beginning  to  comprehend ;  the  sad  blue  eyes, 
with  the  great  circles  under  them,  were  too  serious  for 
that.  Had  she  heard  anything  regarding  him?  No,  it 
.could  not  be  that;  his  life  was  as  clear  and  open  as  the 
page  of  a  book. 

"  I  think,"  said  Royal,  "  that  I  need  ask  Heaven  for  J 
patience.    You  have  promised  to  be  my  wife,  and  now 
you  tell  me  some  barrier  has  risen  between  us  to  part 
us !    You  are  cruel  to  me,  Lillian.    Fate  parted  us  once 
before;  you  must  not  take  it  into  your  hands  to  try  toj 
make  me  miserable  again." 

"  Hush,  Royal !  "  cried  the  girl ;  "  I  can  not  bear  it 
Don't  you  see  that  my  heart  is  broken?    If  you  speak 
harshly  to  me  I  shall  surely  die ! " 

"  Lillian,"  he  asked,  abruptly,  "  has  your  grand 
mother  repented  giving  you  to  me — at  the  very  last 
moment  almost — because  I  was  once  the  husband  o: 
your  sister  Rose?  " 

"  No,"  said  Lillian,  faintly ;  "  it  is  not  that." 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL.  2.11 


"  Then  I  will  listen  to  nothing  else/'  he  declared,  im 
patiently.  "  I  will  not  hear  one  word  more !  Nothing 
under  heaven  shall  take  you  from  me,  I  promise  you ; 
I  love  you  too  well  for  that!  " 

"  Listen  to  me  one  moment,  Royal/'  she  said,  catch 
ing  her  breath  falteringly.  "  It  is  not  the  grave  of  Rose 
that  stands  between  us — it  is  a  living  presence!" 

"  Lillian,"  he  said,  seizing  her  cold  little  hands  and 
gazing  steadily  down  into  her  white  face,  "  do  you 
know  you  look  at  this  moment  just  as  you  did  on  that 
night  when  you  decided  we  must  part — that  we  must 
both  be  sacrificed  on  the  altar  of  duty  to  Rose — that  we, 
who  loved  each  other  so,  must  bury  our  love  and  meet 
as  strangers.  Now  it  is  very  different  with  us,  Lillian. 
We  are  free  to  love  each  other  and  to  find  happiness — 
at  last !  "  » 

"  Let  me  tell  you  while  I  have  the  strength  what  the 
barrier  is  that  has  risen  between  us,  Royal,"  she 
gasped.  "  This  is  why  our  love  for  each  other  is  over 
for  evermore — Rose  still  lives  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

A  thunderbolt  falling  from  a  clear  sky  could  not 
have  startled  Royal  Montague  more  than  the  words 
that  fell  from  Lillian  Hall's  lips : 

"  Rose  still  lives !  " 

Was  Lillian  mad  or  dreaming? 

She  saw  the  look  of  bewilderment  on  his  face  and 
crept  nearer  to  him. 

"  It  is  quite  true,  Royal/'  she  whispered,  "  Rose  did 
not  die  in  the  cruel  waves  that  night.  Heaven  has  re 
stored  her  to  us.'' 

And  in  a  pained  voice,  catching  her  breath  at  every 


other  word,  Lillian  told  him  the  story  of  Rose's  ex 
perience  as  it  had  been  related  to  her. 

Royal  Montague  scarcely  moved,  scarcely  breathed 
as  he  listened. 

When  Lillian  had  finished,  these  two,  who  were  to 
have  been  wedded  in  three  short  weeks,  and  who  loved 
each  other  so  well,  stood  looking  into  each  other's  eyes 
with  a  blank,  awful  look,  thinking  of  the  terrible  gulf 
that  now  lay  between  them. 

It  seemed  that  they  were  not  destined  to  be  happy  in 

each  other's  love — it  was  not  to  be — for  the  second  time 

t 

their  hearts  had  been  torn  asunder. 

"  Heaven  knows,  Lillian,  that  I  do  not  grudge  sweet 
Rose  her  fair,  young  life,  but,  oh,  you  and  I,  Lillian, 
we  are  parted  more  cruelly  than  if  one  of  us  lay  in  the 
grave !  My  heart  is  with  you,  and  I  am  the  husband  of 
Rose!*" 

Lillian  put  up  her  hands  with  a  passionate  gesture, 
she  would  not  hear  him — he  must  not  speak  to  her  so — 
he  must  love  Rose,  who  had  been  so  miraculously  re 
stored  to  him  from  the  very  arms  of  death. 

He  laid  his  head  back  against  the  sofa  upon  which 
he  sat,  covering  his  face  with  his  hands. 

Lillian  came  and  knelt  before  him,  but  he  dared  not 
lay  his  hand  on  the  golden  head,  or  take  one  of  the 
white  hands  in  his,  Lillian  was  not  for  him. 

"  Royal/'   she   said,  gently,   "  I   am  going  to   fetch 
Rose  to  you,  and  I  pray  you  here  on  my  knee,  by  the' 
love  you  have  borne  me,  be  kind,  gentle,  and  loving;: 
with  her,  she  has  been  through  so  much.     Do  not  let* 
her  feel  that  you  are  not  overjoyed  at  her  restoration  to 
you.    Remember  how  she  loves  you,  Royal,  you  are  her 
God  has  given  her  back  to  you,  accept  her  as 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  213 

a  gift  from  a  divine  hand.  Rose  must  never  know  how 
near  we  came  to  being-  wed,  Royal.  The  knowledge  of 
it  would  break  her  heart,  it  must  be  a  dead  secret  be 
tween  us  for  evermore.  I  am  thankful  that  our  engage 
ment  and  notice  of  wedding  was  not  announced.  It  is 
a  great  blessing  to  Rose  that  we  intended  to  have  such 
a  quiet  one." 

She  rose,  and  was  about  to  quit  the  room,  but  Royal's 
voice  arrested  her  steps. 

"  Lillian,"  he  called,  hoarsely,  "  give  me  at  least  a 
brief  half  hour  in  which  to  recover  myself ;  the  startling 
news  has  unmanned  me.  I  must  be  calmer  before  I  can 
see  Rose.  I  can  almost  fancy  myself  in  a  dream  from 
which  I  shall  waken  presently." 

"  Promise  me  you  will  take  Rose  in  your  arm?, 
showing  her  only  love  and  kindness,"  pleaded  Lillian, 
earnestly. 

"  I  promise  you  to  do  my  best,"  said  Royal,  huskily. 

How  the  moments  passed  he  never  knew.  At  length 
he  heard  footsteps,  and  raising  his  face  he  saw  the  two 
sisters  enter  the  room  side  by  side. 

The  wonder  drifted  across  his  brain  that  both  of 
these  young  girls,  so  gloriously  beautiful,  each  with  a 
different  kind  of  beauty,  should  love  him  so  well. 

With  steady  hands  that  never  trembled  or  faltered, 
Lillian  took  Rose's  hands  in  her  own  and  clasped  them 
about  Royal's  neck.  Another  moment  and  they  were 
alone  toeether. 


There  had  never  been  a  greater  sensation  than  that 
rhich  was  caused  by  the  announcement  in  the  papers 
the  wonderful  restoration  of  Royal  Montague's  bride, 
lorn  he  had  mourned  as  dead  for  Ion"1  months. 


- 
214  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 


Those  who  remembered  reading  the  account  in  the 
daily  papers  at  the  time,  of  the  beautiful  bride  who  was 
thrust  from  the  bridegroom's  arms  on  her  wedding  eve, 
and  was  cast  into  the  seething  water  by  the  accident 
to  the  steamer,  and  for  whose  body  search  had  been 
made  all  in  vain,  read,  with  tears  of  joy  in  their  eyes, 
how  she  had  been  saved.  Cast  upon  the  shore  uncon 
scious,  and  how  she  had  been  cared  for  by  humane 
people  until  the  ravages  of  brain-fever  left  her,  and  she 
was  abte  to  proceed  home  to  her  overjoyed  husband 
and  friends. 

It  was  fortunate  for  Rose  that  all  the  accounts  con 
cerning  her  always  mentioned  her  as  Royal  Montague's 
young  bride.  The  salesladies  in  Messrs.  Sinclair  & 
Hollisbury's  dry-goods  emporium  read  the  "  romance 
in  real  life  "  with  great  interest;  but  not  one  of  them 
ever  dreamed  that  the  young  bride  mentioned  was  Rose 
Hall,  who,  not  long  since,  had  been  among  them. 

The  forewoman  in  the  costume  department  read  the  \ 
brief  article  with  wonder. 

"  His  bride  restored  to  him  just  as  he  was  about  to  j 
be  married  to  beautiful  Lillian  Hall!     Dear  me,  what 
a  dilemma !  "  she  thought.    "  I  wonder  what  Miss  Hall   , 
will  do  with  her  beautiful  wedding-dress  now?     I  am 
glad  that  the  other  poor  young  creature  did  not  lose 
her  life ;  still,  I  can't  help  feeling  sorry  for  poor  Miss  I 
Lillian — she  was  so  sweet  and  good.    Royal  Montague 
seemed  to  fairly  worship  her." 

That  afternoon  the  half-finished  wedding-dress  was  I 
sent   for  by  Mrs.   Hail.     When  it  arrived,   she   put   it 
quite  out  of  sight.     She  knew  it  would  have  been  a 
painful  thing  for  Lillian's  eyes  to  rest  on.  and  if  Rose 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL..  215 

had  beheld  it  she  would  have  been  all  wonderment  over 
it. 

That  same  afternoon  Royal  took  Rose  away.  He 
could  not  remain  there ;  the  presence  of  Lillian  seemed 
to  unman  him.  They  went  to  Washington.  Society 
received  them  with  open  arms.  No  one  dreamed — not 
even  Royal  Montague  himself — what  a  pitiful  skeleton 
lay  in  their  closet,  which  would  one  day  burst  forth 
from  its  narrow  confines. 

Lillian  read,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  what  a  genuine 
'  sensation  her  beautiful,  brilliant  sister  was  creating  at 
the  capital,  and  of  Royal  Montague's  constant  devo 
tion  to  her. 

"  God  grant  that  their  love  will  end  happily,"  mur 
mured  the  noble  girl. 

From  the  moment  of  Rose's  return  she  had  heroically 
battled  with  her. own  love  for  Royal.  There  are  many 
who  would  have  nursed  a  secret,  yearning  love  for  him 
down  deep  in  their  hearts.  Not  so  Lillian  Hall.  She 
was  too  pure,  too  noble  to  give  a  loving  thought  to  one 
who  belonged  to  another. 

She  took  up  the  burden  of  life  again  cheerfully,  not 
despairingly,  and  those  about  her,  who  knew  her  secret, 
If  and  guarded  it  so  well  for  her,  wondered  at  her  great 
'  fortitude. 

But,  ah,  how  fared  it  with  beautiful,  peerless  Rose? 
The  days  sped  on  and  lengthened  into  weeks  and 
f|  months.  A  year  had  marked  the  flight  of  time  since 
Royal  and  Rose  had  taken  up  their  residence  in  Wash 
ington. 

Royal  Montague  had  set  himself  the  task  of  learning 
to  love  Rose,  and  the  task  was  not  a  hard  one  to  ac 
complish. 


216  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

There  never  was  a  face  so  fatally  lovely  in  its  dark,  i 
witching  beauty. 

Her  very  love  for  him  would  have  won  his  love  in 
return  in  spite  of  himself. 

There  was  a  magnetism  about  her  that  men  could  not 
resist. 

Royal    Montague    had   wisely   put   all    thoughts    of  .{ 
Lillian  from  him,  devoting  himself  to  his  fair  young 
wife. 

Once  Mrs.  Hall  wrote  to  Rose  that  a  gallant  young 
officer  was  greatly  infatuated  with  Lillian,  and  that  if 
Lillian  could  be  induced  to  look  upon  his  suit  with 
favor,  a  wedding  might  be  the  result  in  the  near 
future. 

Rose  looked  up  at  Royal  with  startled,  earnest  eyes,  ; 
as  she  read  aloud  those  lines  of  her  letter. 

A  momentary  throb  shot  through  his  heart  for  an  in-  ^ 
stant,  then  he  looked  up  with  a  pale,  thoughtful  face, 
remarking: 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  better  for  Lillian  to  marry,  if  f 
the  young  man  is  worthy  of  her." 

The  same  mail  that  brought  Mrs.  Hall's  letter,  also 
brought  one  from  Celia  Derwent  announcing  her  inten 
tion  of  paying  them  a  visit. 

"  I  suppose  we  must  bow  to  the  inevitable,"  sighed 
Rose,  "  and  tell  her  to  come." 

She  remembered  what  a  "  dead  set "  Celia  had  made 
to  capture  Royal. 

"  Miss  Derwent  wi-ll  probably  not  wait  for  permis 
sion,"  remarked  Royal,  dryly,  "she  will  take  matters 
into  her  own  hand  and  follow  her  letter  at  once." 

His  surmise  proved  quite  correct.  The  next  day  the 
charming  blonde  arrived,  bag  and  baggage. 


AS 


PRETTY    ROS1-:    HALL.  217 


season  in  the  gay  capital  was  what  she  desired 
above  all  things. 

"  What  a  delightful  home  you  have,  Rose,"  she  cried, 
glancing  around  her  with  innocent  eyes  and  a  heart 
fairly  bur;  ting  with  envy.  "  How  happy  you  must  be 
to  be  sure  !  " 

Celia  meant  to  make  the  most  of  her  stay  there  She 
would  not  return  to  New  York  without  being  engaged 
or  married,  if  it  lay  in  human  power. 

She  had  not  lost  an  hour's  sleep  grieving  over  the 
loss  of  Royal  Montague  and  his  wealth,  but  had  set 
about  looking  for  the  next  eligible  man  without  delay. 
It  had  not  been  her  fault  that  they  slipped  through  her 
fingers. 

It  would  have  been  better  for  Rose  if  Celia  Derwent 
had  never  crossed  her  threshold.  Her  coming  was  like 
the  coming  of  the  serpent  into  the  Garden  of  Eden — 
it  was  the  beginning  of  the  bitter  end. 

The  shadows  of  doom  were  beginning  to  gather  over 
Rose's  head,  silently  but  surely. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Cecil  Derwent  had  not  been  in  Rose's  home  two  days 
before  she  discovered  a  subtle  change  in  Royal  Mon 
tague's  bride. 

"  What  is  it  that  has  changed  her  so  greatly,  I  won 
der?"  pondered  the  lovely  blonde,  "she  does  not  seem 
happy.  There's  something  wrong  somewhere,  I  must 
find  out  what  it  is." 

As  for  Rose,  she  was  no  insensible  heroine,  this  un 
happy,  erring  girl,  who  had  taken  honor  in  one  hand, 
love  and  pitiful  deceit  in  the  other,  deliberately  choosing 
the  latter. 


218  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

She  had  told  herself  that  she  would  forget  the  bitter 
past,  that  her  life  should  begin  from  the  moment  she  had 
stood  at  the  altar  with  Royal  Montague. 

She  had  blindly  duped  herself  with  that  promise,  but, 
ah,  the  reality  was  very  different  to  that  future  which  she 
had  pictured  to  herself. 

She  tried  to  comfort  herself  with  the  whispered  assur 
ance  that  the  world  would  never  know  the  story  of  her 
folly. 

The  old  register  in  the  stone  church  by  the  sea-shore, 
would  keep  her  terrible  secret  safe  from  Royal  Montague 
and  the  world.  Osric  Lawrence  was  dead,  she  was  quite 
safe  now. 

But  Heaven  never .  meant  that  a  sin  should  prosper. 
The  conscience  of  beautiful  Rose  was.  never  at  rest. 

She  could  see  that  she  was  very  dear  to  Royal  Mon 
tague  now,  and  terror  thrilled  her  soul  lest  she  should 
lose  him. 

Her  life  was  cursed  with  the  thought  that  she  had  taken 
him  from  Lillian,  would  not  Heaven  in  turn  take  him 
from  her  who  claimed  him  through  the  most  pitiful  of 
frauds  ? 

Her  great  idolatrous  love  for  Royal  Montague  was  to 
be  the  sword  which  should  slay  her.  Rose  did  her  best 
to  drown  all  regrets  and  be  happy. 

Even  Celia  Derwent,  who  enjoyed  gayety  with  a  keen 
best,  was  almost  astounded. 

There  was  no  cessation  of  pleasure  in  the  life  Rose  led ; 
balls,  fetes,  charade  parties,  dinner  parties,  archery  meet 
ings,  croquet  parties — every  variety  of  amusement  that  it 
was  possible  to  imagine  followed  each  other  in  rapid  sue- 
cession,  no  clay  passed  without  some  kind  of  entertain- 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  219 


ment.  Rose  seemed  to  dread  only  one  thing,  and  that  was 
time  for  thought  and  leisure. 

Celia  Derwent  had  grown  tired  of  asking  herself  what 
had  come  over  Rose,  that  she  should  be  so  recklessly  gay. 

Even  those  who  shared  Rose's  hospitality,  began  to  talk 
of  her,  and  say  that  it  was  sad  to  see  one  so  young  and 
beautiful  giving  up  heart  and  soul  to  the  pursuit  of 
pleasure. 

Royal  was  the  only  one  who  saw  no  great  fault  in  this 
— he  made  all  allowances.  He  said  to  himself  :  "  That  all 
young  brides  would  most  naturally  enjoy  their  first  season 
at  the  gay  capital,  providing  they  had  wealth  lavished 
upon  them  to  gratify  their  every  desire,  so  why  should 
not  Rose?  " 

Once  a  thought  came  to  him  how  different  a  wife  gen 
tle  Lillian  would  have  made  him,  but  he  put  the  thought 
from  him  as  an  unworthy  one,  Rose  loved  him  so  well  it 
was  wrong  to  give  one  thought  to  another. 

One  afternoon  Rose,  and  Celia  had  gone  to  the  Art 
Academy  together.  There  was  to  be  an  exhibition  of  rare 
pictures  from  the  old  masters.  Tickets  had  been  sent  to  a 
select  few,  and  the  affair  promised  to  be  a  very  enjoyable 
one. 

Rose  and  Celia  stood  by  the  western  window  admiring 
one  of  the  pictures,  when  Celia  turned  to  her  suddenly: 

"  Rose,"  she  exclaimed,  under  her  breath,  "  who  is  that 
gentleman  leaning  against  the  marble  pillar  to  the  right  of 
us?  For  the  last  five  minutes  he  has  not  taken  his  eyes 
from  your  face.  He  must  be  an  acquaintance  of  yours, 
and  as  your  market's  made,  if  he  is  a  rich  bachelor  or 
widower,  pray  introduce  me." 

Rose  turned  her  dark  eyes  from  the  picture  she  was 
contemplating,  to  the  person  indicated.  The  floor  seemed 


220  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

to-  rock  beneath  her  feet,  the  grand  pictures  in  their  gilded 
frames  to  whirl  around  her,  the  air  to  grow  dense  and 
stifle  her.  She  knew  him  in  the  first  instantaneous  glance, 
Willard  Sinclair,  the- dry  goods  prince  of  New  York. 

No  mask  could  have  been  whiter  or  colder  than  her 
face,  but  in  that  moment  her  composure  did  not  leave  her, 
although  she  saw  that  he  was  studying  her  face  with 
eager  intentness. 

"  Do  you  know  the  gentleman  ?  "  queried  Celia,  anx 
iously. 

"  No,"  said  Rose,  turning  abruptly  away. 

Willard  Sinclair  had  given  a  violent  start  when  his  eyes 
first  encountered  Rose. 

"  Heavens !  "  he  exclaimed,  under  his  breath,  "  how  like 
the  face  of  pretty  Rose  Hall!  Can  it  really  be  she  I 
wonder  ?  " 

He  looked  at  the  costly  plush  robe  and  sables  she  wore 
— at  the  diamonds  that  flashed  from  her  person,  in  con 
siderable  doubt. 

Could  this  elegant  young  girl  be  Rose  Hall,  for  whom 
he  had  been  searching  for  long  months,  and  who  seemed 
to  have  vanished  as  completely  from  New  York,  as  though 
the  earth  had  opened  and  swallowed  her?  He  was  mys 
tified. 

At  that  moment,  one  of  Celia's  admirers  stepped  up  to 
them,  and  a  few  moments  later  had  taken  Celia  to  the 
other  end  of  the  gallery  to  admire  a  favorite  picture. 

Rose  sunk  clown  upon  a  velvet  divan,  glad  to  be  left 
alone. 

If  Willard  Sinclair  had  recognized  her,  he  would  not  be 
apt  to  permit  her  to  leave  the  gallery  without  attempting 
to  speak  to  her;  better  that  an  opportunity  should  be  af- 


0 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  221 


forded  him  when  she  was  quite  alone.  Not  for  worlds 
would  she  have  him  recognize  her  before  Celia. 

Her  heart  sank  when  she  saw  him  making  his  way  to 
ward  her. 

Once  or  twice  he  passed  her,  but  the  proud  eyes  he 
hoped  to  catch,  looked  directly  over  his  head. 

He  would  not  be  repulsed  in  this  manner,  he  would  sat 
isfy  himself  beyond  a  doubt  whether  she  was  Rose  Hall 
r  not. 

At  last  he  stopped  before  her,  raising  his  hat  with  a 
courteous  bow : 

"  I  beg  a  thousand  pardons  for  usurping  a  ladies'  pre 
rogative  of  recognizing  an  acquaintance,  but  I  must  know 
whether  or  not  you  are — Rose — ah,  pardon  me  again — if 
you  are  Miss  Hall  or  not  ?  " 

It  was  one  thing  to  address  one  of  the  pretty  salesgirls 
in  his  employ  by  her  given  name,  but  quite  another  matter 
to  dare  use  the  same  unpardonable  familiarity  toward  the 
elegant  young  lady  before  him. 

She  raised  her  dark  clear  eyes  to  his  face,  with  well- 
assumed  haughty  surprise: 

"  You  are  evidently  in  error,  sir,"  she  said,  with  cutting 
•coldness.  "  I  am  not  the  person  you  refer  to." 

There  was  nothing  else  to  do  under  the  circumstances 
but  to  apologize  profusely  and  move  on,  but  as  he  walked 
away  the  conviction  fastened  itself  strongly  upon  his  mind 
that  she  was  Rose  Hall. 

He  had  seen  that  lovely  face  too  often  to  be  deceived 
in  it.  But  what  motive  could  she  have  for  thus  denying 
her  identity?  Had  she  married  rich,  and  wished  to  con 
ceal  the  fact  from  the  fashionable  world  that  she  had  ever 
been  a  New  York  shop-girl  ? 

He  set  his  white  teeth  together. 


222  PRETTY    KO^i:    HALL. 

"  Yes ;  that  must  have  been  her  reason." 

He  drew  his  breath  hard  as  he  looked  back  at  her.  She 
had  been  pretty  before,  but  she  was  more  than  beautiful 
now.  The  dark,  glorious  face,  set  of!  by  its  costly  adorn- 
ings,  was  magnificent  What  a  superb  wife  she  would 
have  made  for  him  I — what  an  honor  she  wrould  have  been 
to  him!  He  would  have  been  the  envy  of  every  man  in 
New  York. 

He  clinched  his  hands  tightly  together  as  he  gazed  at 
her.  Even  in  her  humble  obscurity  and  poverty  she  had 
despised  and  scorned  him!  If  she  were  beyond  his  reach 
now.  how  glorious  it  would  be  to  take  revenge  upon  her 
for  scorning  him — how  it  would  pull  down  her  haughty 
pride  to  spread  the  gossip  about  that  she  had  once  toiled 
for  her  bread ! 

Rose  sat  on  the  divan  like  one  dazed  until  Celia  re 
turned  to  her.  Acquaintances  smiled,  bowed,  and  spoke  to 
her  as  they  passed  her  by,  but  she  neither  heard  nor  saw ; 
her  thoughts  were  in  the  wildest  confusion. 

Dear  Heaven  1   what   if   Willard    Sinclair  should,   by 
chance,  ever  breathe  to  any  'one  who  knew  her — who 
might,  in  turn,  relate  it  to  Royal  and  her  relations — the   I 
horrible  truth  that  she  had  been  for  long  months  in  his  em-   I 
ploy  in  New  York,  for  then  the  truth  would  come  out  that,   I 
instead  of  flying  directly  to  Royal  Montague's  arms  upon    ] 
her  recovery,  she  had  hidden  from  him.    The  amazement    • 
of  all  would  know  no  bounds.     She  could  not  tell  them 
that  she  dared  not  return  to  Royal  on  account  of  Osric 
Lawrerrce,  for  then  all  the  pitiful  story  would  be  sure  to 
be  discovered,  and  then — 

•  Willard  Sinclair  kept  strict  watch  upon  the  beautiful, 
slender  figure  until  he  saw  her  enter  her  carriage  and  dis 
appear. 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  223 

"  Can  you  tell  me  who  that  beautiful  lady  is — the  dark 
one,  I  mean,  who  just  entered  that  coach?"  he  asked  of 
one  of  the  attendants  of  the  academy. 

"  I  have  heard  the  name,  but  I  can  not  call  it  to  mind 
just  now,"  answered  the  man ;  "  she  comes  here  to  the 
weekly  Thursday  receptions.  She's  married." 

Wiliard  Sinclair's  eyes  glittered. 

"  Can  you  find  out  her  name  and  address  for  me? "  he 
asked,  slipping  a  silver  dollar  into  the  man's  hand. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  attendant,  touching  his  hat  re 
spectfully  to  the  liberal  stranger.  "  Call  any  time  after 
next  Thursday,  and  I  will  have  it  for  you." 

"  It  seems  to  be  a  case  of  love  at  first  sight  with  him," 
muttered  the  man,  looking  after  the  tall,  aristocratic  figure 
of  Sinclair  until  it  vanished  from  sight ;  "  and  it  didn't 
seem  to  make  any  difference,  my  hint  to  him  that  the 
beauty  was  not  for  him — she  was  not  free  to  be  wooed 
and  won." 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

Wiliard  Sinclair  did  not  receive  the  desired  informa 
tion  concerning  Rose  which  he  had  so  ardently  hoped  for, 
for  ere  the  next  Thursday  rolled  around,  Royal  received 
letters  which  necessitated  a  sudden  trip  to  Boston. 

It  was  quite  possible  that  business  might  require  his 
presence  there  for  at  least  a  month,  and  it  was  decided 
that  Rose  should  spend  that  month  at  Peekskill. 

Cecil  Derwent,  who  was  making  the  most  of  her  visit, 
heard  the  news  with  the  greatest  dismay. 

"  What !  leave  Washington  and  the  season  at  its  height ; 
why,  Rose,  how  can  you  consent  to  such  a  thing?"  she 
cried ;  "  it's  a  positive  shame  for  Mr.  Montague  to  ask 


224  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

you  to  go  to  that  horrid  country-seat  in  the  dead  of  win 
ter;  you'll  break  your  heart  with  loneliness!  " 

"  Grandma  and  Lillian  are  there,"  replied  Rose ;  "  and 
they  don't  find  it  so  very  dull ;  besides,  I  am  tiring  of  so 
much  gayety — I  shall  appreciate  a  month's  quiet." 

Celia  held  up  her  white  hands  with  a  gesture  of  disdain. 

"  You  could  never  like  what  Lillian  would  care  for," 
she  said,  and  she  wondered  why  Rose  gave  such  a  terrible 
start  at  the  words,  and  why  the  book  she  was  holding  fell 
to  the  floor  with  a  crash;  there  was  certainly  nothing  in 
her  words  to  startle  her  like  that,  and  bring  that  hunted 
look  to  her  dark  eyes. 

Two  days  later  Rose  and  Royal  had  reached  Peekskill. 
Celia,  who  had  made  many  friends  in  Washington,  took 
advantage  of  their  hospitality  to  remain  with  them  until 
Rose's  return. 

It  was  nearly  dusk  when  Royal's  carriage  rolled  up  the 
broad  avenue  that  led  to  Linden  Villa,  and  the  first  face 
that  Rose  saw  as  she  looked  eagerly  out  of  the  carriage 
window  was  the  sweet,  pale  face  of  the  gentle  sister  she 
had  betrayed. 

She  took  Rose  in  her  arms,  and  with  tears  in  her  eyes 
kissed  the  lovely  face. 

"  Welcome,  darling,"  she  said,  "  welcome  home  again." 

It  was  pitiful  to  see  how  Rose  watched  the  greeting  that 
passed  between  Royal  and  Lillian. 

At  the  sight  of  Lillian's  face  would  the  old  love  be 
awakened  in  his  heart?  Had  she  done  right  in  allowing 
Royal  to  accompany  her  here? 

Lillian  held  out  her  white  hand  with  a  kindly  smile  te 
Royal  Montague. 

"  Welcome  to  Linden  Villa,  brother  Royal,"  she  said. 

Royal  took  the  little  white  hand  in  his  own  a  moment, 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  22o 

and  replied  heartily  and  sincerely  to  her  greeting,  then 
turned  to  Rose,  and  the  smile  that  crept  into  his  eyes  as 
they  rested  upon  her  bespoke  a  heart's  true  affection. 

"  He  may  have  loved  Lillian  well  in  the  past,"  thought 
Rose ;  "  but  I  thank  Heaven  that  his  every  thought  is  mine 
now." 

The  next  day  Royal  journeyed  on  to  Boston,  leaving 
Rose  at  Linden  \rilla. 

Although  Lillian  had  schooled  her  heart  to  meet  Royal 
calmly,  it  was  a  relief  to  her  when  he  took  his  leave. 

Lillian  had  anticipated  that  it  might  be  dull  for  Rose  at 
Linden  Villa,  and  had  invited  a  gay  party  of  friends  to 
meet  her.  A  ball  was  to  be  given  the  first  week  of  her 
return,  and  it  was  to  end  in  a  charade,  and  one  scene  from 
a  tragedy  which  was  creating  a  great  furor  on  the  New 
York  boards,  was  to  be  rendered  by  a  company  of  French 
artists,  who  had  been  especially  engaged  for  the  purpose 
and  sent  up  from  the  metropolis.  A  stage  had  been 
erected  at  the  end  of  the  ball-room,  concealed  when  the 
dancing  was  going  on  by  heavy  silken  curtains. 

Rose  was  delighted  with  the  programme. 

"  It  will  be  quite  a  novelty,  Lillian  dear/'  she  said ;  "  I 
always  liked  private  theatricals ;  but  what  is  the  scene  to 
be?  it  is  a  pity  to  see  but  one  act  of  a  really  enjoyable 
play;  if  the  actors  are  well  up  in  their  parts  perhaps  we 
might  have  at  least  two  acts." 

"  They  have  been  rehearsing  the  third  act  of  '  The 
•Gypsy  Girl's  Warning,'  it  is  more  than  interesting,"  an 
swered  Lillian. 

It  was  a  merry  throng  that  gathered  together  to  enjoy 
the  grand  ball  at  Linden  Villa  a  few  days  later. 

After  the  dancing,  and  the  feasting  in  the  beautifully 
decorated  dining-hall  was  over,  the  merry  guests  waited 


226  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

patiently  for  the  tableaux,  and  the  act  of  the  great  play 
to  begin. 

Rose  was  in  one  of  the  front  seats  which  commanded 
a  perfect  view  of  the  stage,  every  whisper  must  reach  her. 

The  orchestra  played  a  brilliant  overture,  the  curtain 
went  up,  and  the  piquant  French  actress  stood  bowing 
a  moment  ere  the  play  went  on. 

How  beautiful  she  was,  this  imperial  bewitching 
French  beauty,  and  more  than  one  of  the  guests  started  to 
see  what  a  striking  resemblance  she  bore  to  the  sister  of 
their  hostess — Rose  Montague. 

Such  a  thought  even  flitted  over  the  mind  of  Rose  her 
self. 

Pen  pictures  but  illy  describe  the  thrilling  events  of  a 
realistic  scene  upon  the  stage,  it  is  the  tone  of  voice  in  its 
varied  emotions,  the  wondrous  play  of  the  features  and 
the  gestures,  as  well  as  the  spoken  words  which  render 
the  effect  perfect. 

The  play  represented  a  young  and  beautiful  girl  who  « 
had  committed  an  act  of  unpardonable  folly  which,  had   ' 
it  been  known  to  the  world,  would  have  banished  her 
forever  from  the  pale  of  honorable  society. 

Yet,  burying  the  past  as  deeply  as  though  it  had  never  j 
been,  she  had  dared  to  become  a  nobleman's  bride  and 
reign  in  the  society  world  its  queen. 

One   day   in   walking  through   the   sunlit   streets   she  \ 
chanced  to  pass  a  group  of  gypsy  minstrels. 

My  lady  passed  them  by  with  haughty  tread,  drawing  , 
her  rich  velvets  and  costly  ermines  rudely  away  lest  con 
tact  with  the  poor  street  waifs  might  contaminate  her. 

One  among  the  group — a  dark-eyed  gypsy  maid — gazed 
upon  my  lady's  face,  and  despite  the  trappings  of  wealth 
knew  her.  as  she  was  in  that  dark  past. 


"  Would 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  227 


"ould  you  like  your  fortune  told,  fair  dame  ?  "  she 
cried,  glancing  up  into  the  proud  cold  face  with  her  bright 
eyes  and  courtesying ;  "  cross  my  hand  with  silver  and  you 
shall  know  the  past,  present,  future  and " 

*'  Out  of  my  way !  "  cried  my  lady  harshly ;  "  how  dare 
such  as  you  address  me!  " 

The  gypsy  girl's  brows  darkened,  her  eyes  flashed  fire, 
all  the  bitter  resentment  of  her  race  rose  up  within  her. 

"  Beware,  my  fine  lady !  "  she  hissed  aloud ;  "  you  soar 
high  to-day,  but  to-morrow  shall  see  your  downfall.  A: 
crime  lies  at  your  door;  a  sin  is  on  your  soul;  and  the 
wages  of  sin  is  death !  No  crime  goes  long  unpunished." 

White  as  marble  grew  my  lady's  face,  ruin,  disgrace, 
exposure,  stared  her  in  the  face.  To  be  thrown  from  her 
proud  pedestal,  to  be  sneered  at  by  women,  scoffed  at  by 
men,  her  lordly  husband's  love  turned  to  hate,  was  more 
than  she  could  bear.  She  drew  a  long,  thin  golden  pin 
from  the  coils  of  her  beautiful  hair,  and  in  an  agony  of 
remorse  plunged  it  in  her  snow-white  breast.  Thus  was 
the  gypsy's  prophecy  fulfilled,  the  wages  of  sin  was 
death ! 

Rose  looked  and  listened,  every  sob  from  the  lips  of  the 
hapless  girl  brought  tears  to  Rose's  eyes.  By  the  great 
est  effort  she  prevented  herself  from  swooning  outright. 

How  eagerly  she  listened  for  the  comments  of  the 
guests  when  the  play  was  over.  The  scene  had  been 
so  terribly  like  her  own  dark  past.  No  one  pitied  the 
beautiful  girl  who  had  sinned.  The  popular  verdict  was: 

"  She  must  expiate  her  sin.  Her  death  was  a  fitting 
finale,  for  it  would  have  been  unjust  had  she  been  for 
given  and  lived  happily  afterward." 

Rose  listened  with  white  lips.  This,  then,  would  be 
the  verdict  of  the  world  if  it  kfcew  her  story. 


228  PRETTY     ROSE    HALL. 

Once  in  the  past  she  had  tried  to  induce  Royal  to  have 
the  marriage  ceremony  read  over  them  again.  Let  him 
call  it  a  whim,  a  caprice,  she  knew  why  she  wanted  it 
done,  of  what  vital  importance  those  few  words  would 
be  to  her. 

But  it  seemed  that  fate  itself  had  a  hand  in  defeating 
her — her  pretty  pleadings  with  Royal  were  quite  in  vain. 

"  I  stood  at  the  altar  with  you  once,  Rose,"  he  replied, 
"  and  the  words  spoken  then  bound  us  together  for  all 
time.  In  my  opinion  it  is  sacriligious  to  play  at  such  a 
solemn  ceremony  as  marriage.  Once  wedded,  we  are 
always  wedded  until  death  separates  us.  Say  no  more 
about  having  the  ceremony  repeated,  Rose." 

She  had  ceased  to  urge  her  prayer  long  since.  She 
had  given  herself  body  and  soul  into  the  hands  of  fate, 
let  the  result  be  what  it  might. 

She  lived  her  life,  content  in  Royal  Montague's  love, 
forgetting  the  past  and  reckless  of  the  future.  Poor, 
misguided  Rose,  she  deserved  a  better  fate. 

Like  Celia  Derwent,  Lillian  soon  noticed  the  great 
change  that  had  come  over  beautiful,  willful  Rose. 

At  times  she  was  wretched  almost  to  the  verge  of  ill 
ness,  then  again  feverishly  gay,  plunging  into  an  excess 
of  gayety  that  both  frightened  and  pained  Lillian. 

(<  You  are  very  ill,  my  darling,"  Lillian  would  exclaim, 
"  do  let  me  send  for  a  physician  to  prescribe  for  you." 

A  wild  laugh,  that  was  half  a  sob,  broke  from  Rose's 
red  lips.  How  could  she  tell  her  sister  that  it  was  not 
a  disease  of  the  body,  but  her  conscience  which  was 
troubling  her  so.  She  knew  that  she  was  standing  on  a 
shoal  that  might  slip  beneath  her  ieet  at  any  moment. 

She  had  a  great  desire  to  know  what  Lillian  would 
think  of  such  a  story  as  her  own,  if  she  heard  it  repeated 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALE..  229 

as  an  incident  that  had  once  been  read  in  one  of  the 
papers. 

It  was  evening — the  two  sisters  sat  alone  in  the  draw* 
ing-room  before  a  bright  sea-coal  fire. 

"  Now  is  the  time,  if  ever,  to  tell  her,"  thought  Rose, 
with  a  throbbing  heart,  but  at  the  last  moment  her 
strength  almost  failed  her,  the  terrible  words  died  on  her 
white  lips. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

Rose  sat  down  beside  her  sister  in  the  soft  crimson 
glow  of  the  tender  firelight. 

Lillian  was  trying  to  interest  her  in  conversation,  but 
her  words  fell  on  deaf  ears.  Rose's  thought  were  upon 
a  vastly  different  subject.  She  was  asking  herself  how 
her  folly  and  sin  would  look  in  the  eyes  of  other  people* 
She  wanted  to  know  what  Lillian  would  think  of  it.  She 
could  rest  no  longer  unless  she  knew. 

"  Lillian,"  she  said,  thoughtfully,  "  the  play  we  wit 
nessed  last  night  reminds  me  of — of  a^story  I  once  read, 
and  which  I  have  never  been  able  to  quite  forget.  It  wa? 
of  a  young  girl  who  was  coaxed — persuaded  into  a  secret 
marriage." 

"  A  secret  marriage !  "  repeated  Lillian,  shudderingly 
"  How  horrible !  " 

"  Horrible  ?  "  repeated  Rose,  faintly.  "  Why  do  yotf 
call  it  that,  Lillian?" 

"  Because  it  is,"  declared  Lillian.  "  No  girl  with  any 
self-respect  would  ever  make  a  secret  marriage.  I  should 
think  they  only  take  place  when  the  man  who  marries 
is  ashamed  of  the  girl,  or  the  girl  is  ashamed  of  the  man< 
Too  much  can  not  be  said  against  them." 


230  PRETTY    ROSE   HALL. 

"  But,  Lillian,  if  yon  knew  any  one  who  was  married 
secretly — say  a  girl,  for  instance,  like  one  of  us 

"  It  would  be  impossible  for  such  a  thing  to  happen  to 
any  girl  like  either  of  us ! >}  cried  Lillian. 

"  Yet,  supposing  a  young  girl  did  marry  secretly,  what 
would  you  think  of  her,  Lillian?" 

"  I  should  think  that  the  day  would  come  when  she 
would  be  obliged  to  expiate  her  folly !  "  declared  Lillian, 
emphatically. 

"  I  should  like  to  tell  you  this  girl's  story,  Lillian,'*  said 
Rose,  wistfully.  "  Perhaps  you  could  not  find  it  in  your 
heart  then  to  judge  her  so  hardly." 

The  subject  had  not  the  slightest  interest  for  Lillian,  but 
if  Rose  wished  to  discuss  it,  she  would  listen  patiently 
enough. 

Rose  knelt  upon  the  hassock  at  her  sister's  feet,  laying 
her  dark,  weary  head  upon  her  knee. 

"  It  is  a  pitiful  story  of  a  young  girl,  living  in  a  lonely, 
isolated  place,  who  met,  by  the  merest  chance,  a  young 
and  handsome  man.  He  captivated  this  girl's  fancy — but, 
oh,  Lillian,  it  was  not  the  love  that  brightens  and  blesses 
a  human  life  that  beat  in  her  unsophisticated  heart;  yet, 
she  did  not  realize  it  then.  They  met  in  a  very  romantic  : 
fashion,  and  at  the  expiration  of  the  first  week  in  which 
she  had  known  him,  he  had  persuaded  her  into  a  secret 
marriage." 

"  What  a  very  foolish  girl  to  have  married  a  stranger,  i 
of  whose  existence  she  was  ignorant  one  short  week  be 
fore  !    Why,  it  almost  seems  incredible  that  any  one  could 
be  so  unwise !  "  cried  Lillian,  becoming  interested  in  spite 
of  herself. 

"  I  grant  she  was  very  foolish — pitifully  so,"  said  Rose, 
striving  to  keep  back  the  tears  from  her  eyes ;  "  but,  oh, 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  331 

Lillian,  she  was  very  young — only  sixteen — and  knew 
nothing  of  the  world,  nothing  of  life.'' 

"  I  should  say  not,"  assented  Lillian. 

"  On  the  same  day  that  they  were  wed/'  continued 
Rose,  "  the  bridegroom  went  away,  with  the  understand 
ing  that  he  was  to  come  back  within  a  fortnight  and  claim 
his  bride.  Long  months  rolled  by,  he  never  returned  to 
her,  and  the  next  report  that  reached  her  was  that  he  was 
dead." 

"  The  usual  case  of  desertion,  followed  by  a  girl's 
broken  heart,"  said  Lillian. 

"  But  that  was  not  the  end  of  the  sad  affair,"  mur 
mured  Rose,  "  it  was  but  the  beginning  of  the  end — the 
sequel  was  more  sad  than  tongue  can  tell.  When  the 
bride  learned  of  the  death  of  this  husband  she  had  mar 
ried  in  secret  she  tried  hard  to  forget  him ;  she  realized 
then  that  she  had  never  really  loved  him.  Soon  after  she 
met  one  whom  she  did  care  for — one  whose  love  was  like 
the  very  light  of  heaven  to  her — one  whom  she  worshiped 
with  all  the  strength  of  her  heart,  with  all  the  depth  of 
her  soul!  Her  one  cry  to  Heaven  was  to  give  her  his 
love,  or  to  let  her  die !  " 

"  It  was  wrong  to  idolize  a  man  as  much  as  that,"  said 
Lillian,  gravely ;  "  no  good  could  ever  come  of  it,  I  fear." 

"  You  are  right,"  sighed  Rose ;  "  no  good  did  come  of 
it — it  was  productive  of  evil  from  first  to  last — but  to  con 
tinue  the  story  :  This  unfortunate  girl  married  her  heart's 
choice,  and,  on  her  bridal  eve,  as  she  was  standing  quite 
alone,  a  few  hours  after  the  ceremony  had  been  per 
formed,  who  should  appear  suddenly  before  her,  without- 
warning,  but  the  husband  whom  she  had  married  in  sr  • 
cret,  and  whom  she  had  believed  dead !  " 


232  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

"  What  a  sad,  sad  dilemma !  "  said  Lillian.  "  Of  course, 
she  was  obliged  to  go  with  him/was  .She  not?  " 

"  He  had  come  to  claim  her,"  said  Ros£,  and  the  keen 
pain  in  her  voice  caused  Lillian  to  look  at  her  with 
startled  wonder.  "  He  had  not  heard  of  the  second  mar 
riage,  hut,  if  he  had,  it  would  have  made  no  difference 
with  him  ;  but,  in  the  very  hour  that  he  stood  beside  her, 
vowing  that  she  should  go  with  him,  the  hand  of  fate 
struck  him  down  to  death.  Then,  Lillian,  the  real  trag 
edy  of  her  life  began.  A  strange  temptation  came  to  her, 
blinding  her  to  reason  and  to  the  realization  that  carrying 
out  her  plan  would  be  to  steep  her  soul  in  sin.  She  was 
not  a  wicked  girl,  this  hapless  creature  whom  a  cruel  fate 
had  singled  out  as  its  prey — she  was  as  tender  of  heart  as 
a  little  child.  Yet  when  this  subtle  thought  came  to  her, 
that,  now  that  this  man  whom  she  had  believed  to  be  dead 
was  in  truth  swept  from  her  path  forever,  why  should  she 
reveal  the  story  of  that  dark  past  to  the  man  she  had  'just 
wedded,  and  whom  she  loved  with  all  the  mad,  deathless 
love  of  her  heart?  She  resolved  that  he  should  never 
know." 

"  But,"  cried  Lillian,  "  the  appearance  of  the  first  hus 
band  would  render  the  marriage  to  the  one  whom  she  had 
that  day  wedded  invalid  ;  she  knew  that,  of  course,  did  she 
not?  She  should  have  told  him  the  truth  at  once." 

"  Heaven  help  her,  she  did  not  quite  realize  that,  when, 
in  a  moment  of  madness,  she  flew  to  her  lover's  arms 
again.  The  power  of  love  urged  her  on — she  was  only 
human;  she  loved  him  better  than  life  itself!  She  knew 
he  would  be  lost  to  her  forever  if  she  revealed  the  truth, 
and  death  itself  would  have  been  easier  to  endure  than 
that !  " 

"I  can  not  quite  agree  with  you  there,"  said  Lillian. 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  233 


"If  the  man  had  loved  her — and  of  course  he  did,  or  he 
would  not  have  wedded  her — when  she  told  him  her  story 
he  would  have  taken  steps  at  once  to  have  the  marriage 
ceremony  repeated  without  delay  that  she  might  be  legally 
his.  Surely  she  was  not  so  lost  to  honor — lost  to  the 
sense  of  right — as  to  continue  to  live  with  him !  '*  cried 
Lillian,  in  horror — "  surely  she  did  not  openly  defy  the 
pure  laws  of  Heaven  in  that  terrible  way  ?  " 

"  That  is  just  what  she  did,"  asserted  Rose :  and  the 
wailing  of  the  night-wind  outside  was  not  more  piteously 

d  than  the  girl's  plaintive  voice. 

"  I  will  not  listen  to  such  a  story,"  cried  Lillian,  utterly 
shocked.  "  A  young  girl  so  lost  to  honor  should  not  be 
discussed  by  you  and  me,  Rose  dear." 

"  Oh,  Lilly,  Lilly !  you  who  are  so  pure,  so  true,  so 
guileless  should  find  pity  in  your  heart  for  that  unhappy 
girl.  Remember  it  was  love  that  blinded  her :  she  was 
sure  she  would  have  lost  him  if  the  slender  thread  by 
which  she  held  him,  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  had  been 
snapped  asunder;  she  felt  sure  she  would  have  lost  him. 
She  tried  every  means  in  her  power  to  invent  excuses  by 
which  the  marriage  service  could  be  read  over  then' 
again ;  but  the  hand  of  Fate  always  interfered,  and  she 
grew  reckless  in  her  despair  and  accepted  the  situation 
just  as  it  was." 

"  What  a  wicked  creature — worse  than  that !  "  cried 
Lillian.  "  Heaven  will  find  no  pity,  no  mercy  for  her 
when  she.  comes  to  die ;  she  will  meet  with  just  retribution 
sooner  or  later.  Heaven  could  not,  would  not,  prosper 
any  one  who  was  guilty  of  so  deep  a  sin  as  that — to  dupe 
a  good  and  innocent  man  into  the  belief  that  she  who 
shared  his  home,  his  love,  and  his  thoughts  was  his  wife, 
when  in  reality  she  was  not.  I  wonder  that  God's  ven- 


231  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

geance  was  not  swift  in  punishing  her,  when  by  a  few 
words  on  that  bridal  eve  she  might  have  made  the  wrong 
right  by  a  truthful  confession.  Yet  how  did  it  turn  out, 
Rose?  there  must  have  been  an  end  to  it,  and  a  moral,  or 
else  the  terrible  story  would  not  have  been  in  the  papers. " 

"  No  one  ever  knew  until  she  died,"  said  Rose,  faintly, 
and  she  little  dreamed  that  there  was  a  prophecy  in  her 
words.  Poor  Rose!  if  she  could  but  have  seen  the  terri 
ble  future  which  her  words  foretold ! 

"  You  shouldn't  trouble  your  pretty  head  with  such 
sad  stories,  dear,"  said  Lillian,  brightly ;  "  you  might 
dream  of  them,  and  come  down  to-morrow  morning  pale 
and  nervous,  and  that  wouldn't  do  at  all ;  for  to-morrow 
is  the  day  of  our  sleigh-ride  party,  and  I  wish  my  brilliant 
sister  to  look  particularly  beautiful." 

She  kissed  her  good-night,  and  the  sisters  parted. 

Lillian  could  not  help  but  remember  how  wan  and  white 
her  sister's  face  looked  as  she  kissed  her  good-night.  As 
she  passed  Rose's  room,  half  an  hour  later,  seeing  the 
door  slightly  ajar,  she  pushed.it  open  and  entered. 

Rose  was  sleeping,  but  it  was  not  a  happy  face  on 
which  the  pallid  moonbeams  fell  in  their  pale  radiance. 
With  gentle  hands  Lillian  put  back  the  clustering,  curling 
hair  from  the  beautiful  face,  but  the  loving  touch  of  those 
gentle  hands  did  not  awaken  the  sleeper. 

The  white  lips  moved,  and  Lillian  bowed  her  head  to 
listen. 

''  The  sin  was  beyond  all  forgiveness,"  the  pale  lips 
murmured.  "  Man  could  not  forgive  nor  could  God  for 
get  it.  Oh,  the  pity  of  it — the  pity  of  it." 

Lillian  drew  back  impatiently. 

"  I  was  quite  sure  Rose  would  dream  of  that  ridiculous 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  23-J 


story ;  her  sympathetic  heart  was  so  touched  by  it,"  she 
thought. 

It  would  have  been  better  if  poor  Rose  had  died  that 
night ;  then  the  thrilling  event  which  was  so  soon  to  hap 
pen  would  never  have  drawn  tears  from  those  who  had 
learned  to  love  the  memory  of  poor,  hapless  Rose,  a»4 
who  can  still  find  pity  for  her,  despite  the  act  of  folly  that 
blighted  her  young  life. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

The  next  morning  dawned  bright  and  clear.  The  hand 
some  double  sleighs,  with  fur-lined  robes  and  prancing 
steeds,  stood  before  the  door  awaiting  the  pleasure  of 
the  gay  party  who  were  to  take  possession  of  them. 

Rose  and  Lillian  were  just  about  to  enter  their  sleigh 
when  the  postman  appeared  with  the  morning  mail* 
There  were  two  letters  for  Lillian — one  for  Rose. 

''Mine  can  wait  until  I  return,"  laughed  Lillian. 
"  They  are  probably  invitations  to  a  ball  or  a  party  from 
some  of  my  dear  five  hundred  friends." 

"  While  they  are  arranging  the  robes  I  will  see  if 
Royal  is  well,"  said  Rose.  "  My  letter  is  from  him." 

She  tore  open  the  envelope  and  turned  her  dark  eyes 
on  the  page.  Suddenly,  and  without  warning,  a  terrible 
cry  broke  from  her  lips,  and  without  a  word  she  fell  face 
downward  among  the  snowdrifts  in  a  deep  swoon. 

In  an  instant  the  greatest  confusion  prevailed.  Loving 
hands  lifted  the  slender  form  and  bore  it  into  the  house 
again.  All  thoughts  of  the  sleighing  party  were  aban 
doned  by  Lillian,  though  she  begged  of  the  rest  not  to  re 
main,  for  Rose  would  doubtless  have  fully  recovered 
within  an  hour.  When  Lillian  was  alone  with  the  old 
servants,  who  were  using  every  effort  to  arouse  Rose 


236  PRETTY    UOSE    HALL. 

from  the  death-like  stupor  into  which  she  had  fallen,  the 
first  thing  she  did  was  to  gently  take  the  crumpled  letter 
from  Rose's  clinched  hand  and  read  it.  Had  anything 
happened  to  Royal?  Perhaps  he  was  ill,  dying.  The  let 
ter  must  certainly  have  contained  some  terrible  news  to 
cause  her  to  swoon. 

The  letter  trembled  in  Lillian's  quivering  hands.  She 
dreaded  to  read  it.  Yet  she  must  know  for  Rose's  sake 
what  it  contained,  that  she  might  know  how  to  comfort 
her. 

As  Rose  had  done,  she  ran  her  eyes  swiftly  over  the  few 
lines  contained  in  the  page,  from  beginning  to  end.  Then 
a  look  of  the  most  intense  wonder  crept  into  her  aston 
ished  eyes.  There  was  nothing  in  it  apparently  to  pain 
her. 

Again  Lillian  read  it  over,  not  once,  but  a  second  time. 
We  will  glance  over  the  lines  with  her. 

It  was  dated  at  Boston,  and  ran  as  follows : 

"  MY  DARLING  ROSE — I  arrived  here  safely  three  days 
ago,  and  hope  to  adjust  my  business  matters  so  satisfac-    < 
torily  that  I  may  be  able  to  return  to  Linden  Villa  early 
next  week. 

"  I  see  by  the  society  papers  that  the  ball  given  in  your 
honor  was  a  brilliant  event.     The  special  correspondents   | 
were  warm  in  their  praise  of  my  beautiful  wife,  which 
made  me  both  proud  and  happy  as  I  read. 

"  By  the  way,  I  had  almost  forgotten  to  mention  to  you 
that  I  have  donated  a  beautiful  memorial  window  to  a 
church  in  the  village  of  Wilton,  a  small  place  upon  the 
coast  of  Maine.  The  minister  who  married  us,  my  dar 
ling,  at  one  time  had  charge  of  this  old  church. 

"  Yet  this  is  not  the  only  reason  why  my  heart  turns 


PRETTY    RUSK    HALL.  237 

toward  it.  I  do  not  think  I  have  ever  mentioned  the  fac'i 
to  you,  love,  that  my  mother  was  wedded  in  that  church 
long  years  ago;  the  record  still  bears  evidence  of  the 
event.  It  will  be  a  great  pleasure  to  me  to  search  the 
register  for  the  names  recorded  there  so  many  years  be 
fore.  I  shall  do  all  I  can  to  promote  the  prosperity  of  the 
old  church  at  Wilton. 

'  The  workmen  write  me  that  the  memorial  window 
will  be  completed  by  Thursday  next ;  I  will  take  a  run  tip 
from  the  city  to  see  it.  Remember  me  lovingly  to  all,  ac 
cepting  my  deepest  and  most  profound  love  for  yourself, 
dear.  Yours  in  great  haste,  "  ROYAL." 

Lillian  read  the  letter  over  and  over  again  with  intense 
wonder.  She  could  certainly  see  nothing  in  those  loving 
lines  to  cause  Rose  to  faint.  She  could  not  understand  it, 
and  concluded,  at  length,  that  it  could,  not  have  been  the 
letter  which  caused  it. 

It  was  long  hours  before  Rose  awoke  to  consciousness, 
and  when  she  opened  her  eyes  they  fell  upon  Lillian's  pale, 
anxious  face. 

"  Oh,  my  darling!  "  cried  Lillian,  sobbingly ;  "  what  in 
the  world  made  you  faint?  We  have  been  all  so  fright 
ened  over  you,  _dear  !  "  she  cried  out,  in  alarm  at  the  burn 
ing  hot  hands  that  clutched  at  her  own,  clinging  to  them 
so  tightly. 

"  You  are  very  ill,  Rose/'  she  exclaimed.  "  I  am  going 
to  send  at  once  for  a  physician.  You  are  trembling  with 
cold,  yet  your  hands  burn/5 

"  It  is  not  an  illness  of  the  body,"  sobbed  Rose.  Then 
she  raised  her  dark  eyes  to  her  sister's  face.  "  Oh,  Lilly, 
you  are  so  pure  and  so  good  your  prayers  will  be  heard 


238  PRETTY    ROSE    IIALL. 

in  heaven !  "  she  murmured.    "  Pray  for  a  soul  in  terrible 
paiti.    Sin  must  be  found  out !  " 

Lillian  listened  to  the  wild,  incoherent  words,  believing 
them  to  be  the  idle  vagaries  of  a  wandering  mind. 

She  touched  the  bell  to  send  for  a  physician,  but  Rose 
sprung  from  the  couch,  grasping  her  hands. 

"  Send  for  no  one,  Lilly,  dear,"  she  sobbed ;  "  all  I 
want  is  to  be  quite  alone — away  from  all  sight  and  sound 
of  human  faces  and  human  voices.  Send  Mistress  Pom- 
pey  to  me ;  she  will  watch  over  me  while  I  sleep.  Every 
one  else  must  be  barred  out — even  you,  Lilly  dear." 

Perhaps  it  would  be  best  to  humor  her,  Lillian  decided. 
There  was  not  much  the  matter  with  her ;  all  she  needed 
was  rest  and  quiet,  and  she  should  certainly  have  them. 
Pompey,  the  old  colored  nurse  who  had  been  in  Mrs. 
Hall's  employ  for  long  years,  and  who  was  fond  of  Rose, 
would  be  only  too  pleased  to  sit  and  watch  by  her  bedside. 

Mistress  Pompey  responded  to  the  summons  with  alac 
rity.  In  response  to  Rose's  whim,  she  had  locked  and 
bolted  them  all  out  of  the  room,  and  sat  down  in  the  arm- 
chair  by  the  bedside.  Then,  in  an  instant,  Rose  had  : 
sprung-  from  the  couch,  and  was  kneeling  at  the  old  ser- 
vant'g  feet. 

"Hush,  Pompey!"  she  cried,  sharply;  "do  not  speak  i 
— do  not  give  an  outer}-.  Oh,  Pompey,  if  you  have  ever 
loved  me,  heed  me  and  help  me  in  this,  the  darkest  and 
most  bitter  hour  of  my  life!  I  am  in  sore  trouble,  Pom 
pey.  and  I  can  trust  my  terrible  secret  to  no  living  human 
being — not  even  to  Lillian,  and  not  even  to  you,  though 
you  must  help  me.  I  am  neither  mad  nor  out  of  my  head,  Jj 
Pompey.  Promise  me  you  will  aid  me,  or  I  shall  die !  " 

"  Good  Lord,  chile,"  gasped  the  old  servant,  "  I'll  help 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  239 

you,  o*  course,  honey!  But  don't  look  up  at  me  with 
sech  big  eyes.  You  ter'fy  me — you  do  indeed,  honey !  " 
"  You  must  promise  to  aid  me,  Pompey,  and  to  let  no 
human  being  know,"  whispered  Rose,  her  breath  com 
ing  and  going  with  convulsive  gasps.  "  In  Heaven's 
name,  promise  quickly !  " 

It  was  not  in  old  Pompey's  power  to  refuse  her — no 
matter  what  she  wanted  her  to  do — the  girl's  piteous, 
tearful  pleading  would  have  melted  a  heart  of  granite. 

"'  I'll  do  what  you  want  me  to  do,  chile.  No  one  shall 
know.  You  can  trust  Mistress  Pompey,"  she  said,  sol 
emnly.  And  Rose  knew  that  she  could  trust  old  Pom 
pey  to  death  itself.  She  would  never  break  her  word. 

"  I  must  go  on-  a  sudden  journey  to  the  Maine  coast 
this  very  night,  Pompey,"  she  uttered,  in  a  whisper.  "  I 
must  go  as  soon  as  darkness  sets  in ;  but  no  human  being 
save  yourself  must  know  it.  If  you  love  me,  aid  me  in 
this  terrible  hour !  " 

"  Oh,  Lord,  bless  the  dear  girl !  "  cried  Pompey,  hold 
ing  up. her  hands  in  alarm.  "You  to  take  a  journey,  as 
weak  as  you  are !  It  couldn't  be  done,  'pend  upon  it.  Let 
me  go  for  to  do  it,  chile." 

"  No  one  could  do  what  must  be  done  except  myself, 

Pompey.    You  are  to  remain  here  and  bar  out  every  one. 

•  Say  to  all  that  come  to  the  door,  my  orders  are  they  must 

s-not  disturb  me.    It  will  be  no  untruth,  Pompey — that  is 

;  my  order  to  you.    I  shall  have  gone  upon  my  errand,  ac- 

L ^complished  it,  and  returned  within  two  days  at  most.    Be 

!  sure  to  see  that  the  side  gates  are  left  unlocked  at  night 

p^for  me,  that  I  may  have  no  trouble  in  gaining  an  entrance 

unobserved-.    It  is  a  case  of  life  and  death — the  price  of 

a  tortured,  sin  steeped  soul.    You  must  help  me. to  save 

it,  Pompey." 


2  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

The  bitter  agony  of  the  white  face,  the  streaming,  dark, 
mournful  eyes  were  too  much  for  tender-hearted  Pom- 
pey.  And  when  Rose  bound  her  to  a  solemn  vow  that 
she  would  never  betray  her,  come  what  would,  the  woman 
unhesitatingly  accepted  the  trust. 

Night  came  on,  dark  and  starless.  The  snow,  which 
had  fallen  silently  and  steadily  since  early  morning,  had 
deepened  into  a  terrible  storm.  The  snow-drifts  were 
almost  impassable  in  the  country  roads  of  PeekskilL  It 
was  the  most  bitter  storm  that  had  been  known  here 
abouts  for  long  years. 

Yet,  through  the  intense  cold  and  the  huge  drift's  of 
freezing  whiteness,  a  dark-robed  figure,  draped  in  a  long, 
thick  cloak,  her  face  hidden  by  the  folds  of  a  veil,  at 
length  made  her  way  iitto  the  Peekskill  depot  and  pur 
chased  an  eastern  ticket. 

"  It's  a  bad  night  for  traveling,"  said  the  station  agent, 
stamping  the  bit  of  pasteboard  and  tossing  it  out,  noticing \ 
the  slim,  white,  graceful  hand,  and  wondering  what  the; 
face  was  like. 

Rose  bowed  silently,  vouchsafing  him  no  word  in  reply.) 

The  train  steamed  in  at  last,  and  Rose  boarded  it,  sink-! 
ing  into  the  first  seat,  trembling  with  fatigue  and  excite-l 
ment. 

Oh,  how  slow  the  train  seemed  to  creep  to  her  excitedj 
fancy!    She  was  quite  insensible  to  the  bitter  cold  about 
her — her  heart  was  on  fire.     Oh,  if  kind  fate  would  bu 
let  her  reach  the  old  stone  church  at  Wilton  in  advance  o: 
Royal  Montague!     Heaven  help  her  if,  in  searching  the 
register  of  the  marriage  record,  his  eyes  should  by  chanci 
fall  upon  what  was  written  against  her  name ! 

She  must  reach  there  in  advance  of  Royal,  and  she 
must  seize  the  old  record  and  destroy  it — it  was  a  terrible 


E    HALL.  241 

witness  against  her.  Surely  Heaven  in  its  mercy  would 
not  let  her  arrive  there  too  late,  when  so  much  was  at 
stake. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

The  sun  was  shining  brightly  upon  the  snow-clad  hills 
and  fields  of  the  little  village  of  Wilton,  the  next  morn 
ing  as  Rose  wended  her  way  up  the  quiet  streets. 

She  knew  this  was  the  day  on  which  Royal  Montague 
was  to  arrive  there,  but  fate  had  shown  her  mercy.  The 
Boston  express  was  not  due  until  noon,  she  would  have 
fully  three  hours  in  advance  of  him,  and  in  that  length 
of  time  she  could  decide  the  fate  of  two  lives. 

She  shuddered  as  she  looked  about  at  the  old  familiar 
scenes — how  well  she  remembered  that  never-to-be-for 
gotten  night  when  Osric  Lawrence  had  brought  her  there, 
and  together  they  had  climbed  the  mossy  hill  that  led  to 
the  old  church. 

A  shuddering  cry  of  horror  broke  from  her  lips  as  she 
thought  of  it,  she  almost  wondered  if  she  could  be  the 
same  creature  who  had  stood  before  that  dim  old  altar 
while  the  marriage-service  was  read  over  her  and  Osric 
Lawrence  ? 

Could  she  be  the  same  girl  who  was  stealing  quietly 
there,  praying  that  fate  would  not  punish  her  for  destroy 
ing  all  traces  of  that  hated  marriage? 

Rose  made  her  way  up  the  snowy  lane,  starting  back  in 
alarm  as  she  saw  the  old  sexton  sweeping  the  snow-drifts 
away  from  the  plank  walk.  The  door  stood  open. 

"  I  should  like  to  enter  and  rest  awhile,"  faltered  Rose, 
trembling  so  that  she  was  obliged  to  lean  against  a  gnarled 
oak-tree  for  support. 

"  You  can  with  pleasure,"  responded  the  old  sexton. 


242  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 

heartily,  "  it's  a  bitter  morning,  and  there's  a  good  cheery 
fire  inside.  A  party  of  gentlemen  are  expected  up  from 
Boston ;  one  of  them,  bless  his  kind  soul,  has  had  the  old 
church  comfortably  fitted  up,  and  not  only  put  in  a  hand 
some  window,  but  has  paid  for  the  winter's  firing  besides 
— a  long  life  and  a  happy  one  may  he  have,"  added  the 
old  sexton,  fervently. 

Rose  could  not  reply. 

She  crept  into  the  old  church,  gazing  hurriedly  about 
her.  Yes,  she  remembered  where  the  vestry  was,  the  first 
door  to  the  right  led  to  it. 

There  was  no  one  to  observe  her  actions  and  she  crept 
silently  toward  it,  gazing  like  one  fascinated  at  the  me 
morial  window  as  she  passed  it  by. 

She  entered  the  vestry  gazing  around  in  affright  for 
the  register.  Yes,  it  occupied  the  same  place,  and  it 
seemed  to  Rose  scarcely  more  than  yesterday  that  she 
stood  there  by  Osric  Lawrence's  side  signing  her  name. 

With  death-cold  hands  she  opened  it  at  the  eighty- 
seventh  page. 

Ah,  Heaven!  There  was  the  names  standing  out  in 
bold  relief — Osric  Lawrence  and  Rose  Hall. 

There  was  no  time  to  listen  to  the  voice  of  conscience  •• 
crying  out  against  the  wrong  that  she  was  about  to  com 
mit.     The  happiness,  the  love,  of  a  human  life  was  at 
stake. 

The  names  on  the  register  must  not  appear  as  silent 
witnesses  against  her,  a  bit  of  written  paper  should  not 
stapd  between  her  and  Royal  Montague's  love,  when  the 
<lc  -lro\  ing  of  it  would  be  so  easily  accomplished. 

toment  more  and  the  deed  was  done.     With  the 

e  in  her  fluttering,  terrified  bosom,  she  crept  noise- 

• 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL.  243 

lessly  as  a  phantom  spirit  out  of  the  dim  old  church  again, 
out  into  the  clear,  beautiful  sunlight 

Let  Royal  come  now.  She  was  quite  safe.  Tke  old 
register  would  reveal  the. secret  of  that  past  nevermore t 
She  was  safe.  Ah,  how  sweet  the  thought  was  to  her ! 

She  dare  not  destroy  the  paper  then  and  there.  She 
would  wait  until  she  returned  to  Linden  Villa. 

How  she  accomplished  that  journey  home  she  never 
remembered.  The  darkness  of  night  had  settled  over 
Linden  Villa  ere  she  reached  it  again.  Most  of  the  house 
hold  were  asleep  in  their  beds  as  she  opened  the  entrance 
gate  and  entered  softly. 

What  should  she  do  with  the  paper  that  still  lay  like  a 
dead  weight  against  her  heart,  she  asked  herself?  Should 
she  take  it  to  her  own  room  and  bum  it?  That  would 
mean  the  arousing  of  Pompey's  curiosity.  A  sudden 
thought  occurred  to  her.  Why  not  cast  it  into  the  depths 
of  the  pond  which  the  lindens  skirted?  It  was  frozen, 
but  in  the  center  she  espied  a  broken  space  through  which 
the  water  bubbled  up. 

Why  not  cast  it  in  there?  The  water  would  never 
^reveal  the  secret  buried  beneath  its  smooth  surface.  Be- 
bsides  she  could  make  assurance  doubly  sure  by  weighting 
I  the  paper  with  a  heavy  stone  bound  in  her  handkerchief, 

It  was  but  the  work  of  a  few  moments  to  accomplish 
this.  Then  quick  as  thought  she  dashed  it  from  her  into 
the  stream,  remembering  too  late  that  the  daioty  bit  of 
linen  bore  her  name  stamped  in  the  corner.  But  after  all 
what  did  that  matter?  The  handkerchief  and  torn  page 
were  weighted  so  securely  with  the  heavy  stone  that  they 
could  never  rise  up  and  confront  her.  No  one  would  ever 
know  of  it. 


244  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 


Ah,  poor  hapless  Rose)  Was  she  quite  sure  that  nol 
one  knew — no  one  saw  her? 

A  pair  of  pale  blue  eyes  had  been  watching  intently! 
from  the  curtained  window  the  strange  actions  of  thej 
dark-robed  figure  among  the  lindens.  The  same  eyes  had] 
beheld  Rose  when  she  tossed  the  bundle  through  the  openj 
space  in  the  middle  of  the  pond. 

Celia  Derwent— for  it  was  she — watched  with  breath-3 
less  interest.     She  had  but  just  returned  to  Linden  Villa 
that  night  quite  unexpectedly,  and  had  not  yet  retired. 

'  Now,  what  in  the  world  can  such  strange  actions! 
mean,  I  wonder?  "  she  asked  herself  breathlessly.  "  What! 
could  that  white  package  contain  that  was  cast  into  the! 
pond  ?  They  tell  me  Rose  is  ill,  confined  to  her  bed,"  shel 
mused.  "  Yet,  if  ever  I  saw  and  recognized  a  form  be-] 
fore  I  should  say  that  the  person  who  stood  beside  the] 
pond  to-night  was  certainly  Rose.  What  could  it  have! 
been,  I  wonder,  that  was  consigned  to  the  dark  waters?! 
I  must  and  will  know.9 

Meanwhile  Rose  had  silently  entered  the  house  andl 
gained  her  own  apartments  unobserved,  falling  cold,  wet,! 
and  exhausted  into  the  amis  of  faithful  Mistress  Pompey  j 
who  had  carried  out  her  orders  to  the  very  letter. 

Not  a  soul  save  Pompey  knew  that  Rose  had  stolen! 
away  from  Linden  Villa  so  secretly,  and  as  secretly  re-| 
turned  to  it. 

Those  who  had  come  to  the  door  in  the  interim  had  re 
ceived  the  same  answer :  "  The  young  lady's  orders  were 
that  she  was  not  to  be  disturbed."  Even  Lillian  was 
obliged  to  submit  to  this  decree. 

The  next  morning  Lillian  went  early  to  Rose's  door, 
this  time  she  was  not  denied  admission.  Rose  lay  upon 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  245 

her  couch  sleeping  the  sleep  of  exhaustion,  the  result  of 
her  wearisome  journey. 

How  beautifully  flushed  the  white  cheeks  were — the 
look  of  terror  had  vanished  from  her  face.  She  opened 
her  eyes,  holding  out  her  hands  smilingly  to  Lillian.  Ah, 
how  happy  she  was,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  fe't 
safe. 

There  was  no  fear  of  detection  now ;  her  secret  was 
safe  for  evermore,  she  could  have  cried  aloud  in  her  joy. 

"  I  have  news  for  you,  my  darling,"  said  Lillian,  ten 
derly  ;  "  we  have  received  a  telegram  from  Royal — he  will 
be  with  us  by  noon — would  it  not  be  best,  if  3-011  feel  weU 
enough,  dear,  to  come  down  to  the  parlor  to  meet  him? ' 

Rose  assented  eagerly. 

"'  She  was  feeling  better  that  morning  than  she  had  felt 
for  long  years,"  she  declared. 

Never  had  she  appeared  more  vivacious  than  at  the 
breakfast  table. 

Those  who  loved  her  so  well  looked  at  her  in  pleased 
wonder;  they  quite  believed  that  it  was  the  news  o? 
Royal's  return  that  made  her  so  happy. 

Celia  Derwent  looked  at  her  curiously,  saying  nothing. 

Early  that  morning,  before  the  servants  were  astir,  she 
was  out  in  the  grounds ;  she  saw  the  footprints  in  the 
snow  which  led  from  the  entrance  gate  to  the  pond  be 
neath  the  lindens,  and  from  there  they  led  directly  to  the 
house. 

"  The  dainty  imprints  could  certainly  belong  to  none 
other  than  Pose/'  she  told  herself,  "  what  had  caused 
her  to  go  in  the  darkness  of  night  to  the  deep  pond — what 
was  in  the  white  bundle  she  had  cast  into  its  silent 
waters?" 


246  PRETTY    ROSE    HALL. 


She  made  up  her  mind  she  would  know  ere  the  mor 
row's  sun  shone. 

Royal  came  while  the  family  were  at  breakfast.  Lillian 
greeted  him  kindly,  but  beautiful  Rose  sprung  toward 
him  with  outstretched  arms  that  wreathed  themselves 
tightly  about  his  neck. 

Ah,  how  dearly  she  loved  him,  this  handsome  young  1 
husband,  whom  fate  had  so  nearly  snatched  from  her. 

He  was  just  in  time  for  a  cup  of  chocolate,  and  as  he  ; 
sat  down  at  the  table,  he  entertained  them  in  his  own 
graceful  way,  by  a  relation  of  the  incidents  connected  with 
his  trip  to  Boston,  and  to  the  old  gray-stone  church  at   I 
Wilton. 

"  It  just  occurred  to  me,  my  dear,"  he  said,  turning  to  | 
Rose,  "  that  you  used  to  live  in  that  vicinity — had  I  had 
time,  I  should  have  taken  great  delight  in  visiting  your 
old  home.    I  will  take  that  trip,  however,  later  on,  when  -j 
you  can  accompany  me — perhaps  you  will  wish  Lillian  to 
come,  too." 

He  could  not  understand  why  Rose  looked  so  pale  and  | 
nervous,   while   Lillian   appeared    so   pleased    with   the 
project. 

"  There  is  one  other  little  incident  that  happened  that  I  J 
<[uite  forgot  to  mention,"  continued  Royal;  "  upon  glanc 
ing  over  the  register  of  the  old  church  at  Wilton,  I  was 
surprised  to  find  that  it  had  been  mutilated.  The  sexton, 
whose  attention  I  called  to  the  matter,  evinced  the  most 
intense  surprise.  '  It  was  not  in  that  condition  last  night, 
sir/  he  declared,  '  for  I  had  occasion  to  refer  to  it  myself. 
and  I  am  sure  it  was  all  right  then.1  Then  he  looked  at 
me  in  a  startled  way.  '  It  must  have  been  done  by  the 
hand  of  the  strange  young  woman  who  visited  here  this 
morning,1  he  said, '  she  came  as  silently  as  a  shadow,  beg- 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  2-iT 

ging  to  rest  awhile  in  the  church,  then  as  silently  she  de 
parted.'  It  will  be  a  source  of  regret  to  them  always  that 
the  eighty-seventh  page  of  the  old  register  is  missing." 

There  were  the  usual  comments  concerning  the  affair 
by  the  family. 

Rose  sat  through  the  conversation  with  a  face  white  as 
marble.  It  was  only  by  the  greatest  effort  that  she  could 
restrain  herself  from  crying  out. 

Yet  she  turned  to  Royal  outwardly  calm  ami  self- 
possessed,  but  there  was  one  at  that  table  watching  her 
keenly,  who  was  not  blinded  by  her  forced  smile — that 
person  was  Celia  Derwent,  who  had  already  commenced 
weaving  the  fatal  web  of  a  tragedy. 


CHAPTER  XXXJX. 

An  hour  later,  while  Rose  and  Lillian  were  in  the  draw 
ing-room  entertaining  friends,  a  curious  scene  was  being 
enacted  in  the  grounds  of  Linden  Villa. 

Immediately  after  breakfast  Celia  Derwent  had  gone  to 
Mrs.  Hall  with  a  strange  request  and  a  sad  story :  that  at 
an  early  hour  that  morning  a  little  lad  in  crossing  the 
grounds  had  chosen  the  path  by  the  pond,  and  that  the 
treacherous  ice  had  broken,  precipitating  him  into  the 
water,  where  he  would  certainly  have  perished  had  she 
not  been  close  enough  at  hand  to  throw  him  her  scarf  and 
thus  save  him. 

"  Danger  lurks  in  that  spot,  Aunt  Margaret/'  she  con 
cluded  ;  "  and  I  suggest  that  it  be  drained  immediately 
and  filled  up." 

Royal  Montague,  who  was  present,  listened  with  in 
terest.  * 

"  I  should  have  such  a  dangerous  locality  attended  to  by 
all  means."  he  said ;  "  Miss  Celia  is  right,  it  is  quite  a 
magnetical  spot  for  the  neighboring  children  I  perceive; 
it  should  certainly  be  drained  and  filled  up  without  delay, 
despite  the  weather." 

"If  you  think  so,  you  might  see  about  its  being  done 
at  once,"  assented  Mrs.  Hall ;  "  better  to  lose  the  pond 


than  to  allow  the  children  to  risk  their  lives.  Celia's 
story  of  the  little  lad's  narrow  escape  there  this  morning 
has  quite  shocked  me.  It  might  be  fenced  around  to  be 
sure,  but  fences  are  no  obstacle  to  the  lads.  No,  the  pond 
must  go,  then  there  will  be  an  end  of  the  danger  for  ail 
time  to  come." 

Celia  Derwent  could  scarcely  repress  the  smile  of 
triumph  that  crept  up  to  her  thin  lips.  Now  she  would 
discover  what  the  white  parcel  was  that  was  cast  into  the 
pond  by  the  dark-robed  ftgure  which  so  closely  resembled 
Rose. 

The  sleighing  was  fine.  Rose  had  promised  to  accom 
pany  Lillian  for  a  ride,  and  together  they  set  out  laughing 
and  chatting  gayly.  Never  again  after  this  memorable 
morning  would  the  lips  of  beautiful  Rose  part  with  merry 
laughter  and  dimpling  smiles,  ah,  never  again. 

Royal  had  declined  joining  them,  giving  as  a  reason 
that  he  had  a  little  matter  to  attend  to  for  Mrs.  Hall, 
which  would  keep  him  busy  during  the  greater  part  of 
the  morning. 

Heaven  help  poor  Rose.  The  thought  never  occurred 
to  her  to  ask  him  what  that  "  little  affair  "  was ;  he  would 
have  told  her  readily  enough  and  she  could  have  prevented 
it,  but  it  was  not  to  be. 

He  bent  over  and  kissed  the  beautiful  face, -nodding 
gayly  to  Lillian,  who  touched  the  spirited  horse  and  they 
shot  forward  into  the  feathery  snow-carpeted  road  amid 
the  jingle  of  the  bells.  Surely  it  was  the  prettiest  sight 
that  ever  a  young  husband's  eyes  gazed  after;  then  he 
turned  and  walked  back  into  the  grounds  to  give  direc 
tions  to  the  workmen  who  had  just  arrived,  about  the 
drainage  of  the  pond  ;  that  part  of  the  work  would  be  quite 
finished  ere  Rose  returned. 

It  was  no  easy  task,  yet  experienced  hands  were  about.' 
it,  and  the  water  commenced  to  diminish  rapidly,  and  the 
workmen  promised  Royal  that  within  half  an  hour  the 
bottom  would  be  reached. 

"It  was  an  ugly  spot,"  they  said  ;  "  and  the  owner  of 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  24- 


Linden  Villa  was  wise  ki  ordering  it  drained  and  rilled 
Up." 

It  was  the  cheeriest,  brightest  winter  morning  that  had 
been  known  that  season ;  Rose  laughed  to  see  how  the  lit 
tle  children  enjoyed  it  as  they  trooped  to  school  that  win 
ter  day;  how  their  eyes  shone  and  their  red  cheeks 
glowed,  and  their  merry  laughter  rang  out  as  they  pelted 
each  other  with  the  new-fallen  snow ;  how  bright  th** 
world  was,  how  much  joy  there  was  in  it. 

It  was  almost  with  regret  that  they  turned  their  horse'? 
head,  at  length. 

They  saw  strange  workmen  in  the  park,  but  neither 
of  them  questioned  what  they  were  doing  there. 

Both  Lillian  and  Rose  leaped  lightly  from  the  sleigh, 
threw  the  reins  to  a  groom,  ran  swiftly  up  the  broad  stone 
steps,  and  entered  the  house.  Mrs.  Hall  sat  before  the 
fire,  in  her  favorite  chair,  reading.  Celia  Derwent  stood 
at  the  lace-draped  window,  watching  eagerly  over  the 
white  fields. 

Lillian  had  passed  to  her  own  room  to  lay  aside  her 
wraps ;  Rose  lingered  by  her  grandmother's  side. 

"  \Yhere  is  Royal  ?  "  she  asked,  glancing  around ;  and 
at  that  moment  he  entered  the  door,  just  in  time  to  hear 
the  query. 

"  I  have  been  busy  at  work,  my  darling,"  he  said,  smil 
ingly,  as  he  crossed  over  to  her  side.  "  I  have  been  super 
intending  the  workmen  who  are  engaged  in  draining  and 
refilling  the  pond  by  the  lindens ;  they  will  reach  the  bot 
tom  of  it  in  a  very  few  moments  now." 

The  girl  threw  up  her  hands  with  a  bitter  cry — a  cry  so 
horror-stricken  that  it  haunted  those  who  heard  it  to 
their  dying  day. 

"  Draining  the  pond  ?    Oh,  God !  pity  me — pity  me !  " 

Like  one  mad  she  sprung  toward  the  door  and  wrenched 
it  open.-  They  heard  her  cry  out  that  the  work  must  be 
stopped.  But  it  was  too  late ;  the  hand  of  Fate,  that 
measures  out  sure  atonement  for  every  sin  committed, 
had  tracked  her  down. 

What  use  were  prayers  now  I1    Useless — useless !    Even 


PRETTY    ROSE   HALL. 

while  she  gazed,  with  horror-stricken  eyes  and  pale,  hor 
rified  face,  one  of  the  workmen  was  seen  leaping  from 
tke  pit  with  something  white  in  his  hand.  Heaven  help 
her!  She  knew  what  it  was  that  he  held  in  his  hand — • 
oh,  she  knew ! 

In  that  instant  every  nerve  in  her  body  seemed  par 
alyzed.  She  heard  the  man's  voice,  like  the  rushing  of 
waters,  calling  for  Royal  Montague,  saying  that  a 
woman's  handkerchief  was  found  in  the  bottom  of  the 
pond,  and  there  seemed'  to  be  something  heavy  securely 
tied  in  it. 

Oh,  how  the  poor  soul  strained  every  nerve  to  call  out 
to  the  man — hold  out  her  white  hands  to  him  and  claim  it 
— grasp  it  tightly!  But  in  that  awful  moment  Heaven 
seemed  closed  against  her.  She  could  neither  move  hand 
nor  foot — her  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  her  mouth— the 
wild,  anguished  words  of  a  breaking  heart  died  on  her 
lips. 

In  that  terrible  moment  of  bitter  anguish,  when  she 
was  suffering  the  tortures  of  death  in  life,  surely  some 
mercy  should  have  been  extended  her. 

Royal  had  followed  her  out  in  wonder  and  dismay. 
Then  the  workman  stepped  up  to  him  and  put  the  bundle 
in  his  hands. 

""We  foi-ud  it  lying  in  the  bottom  of  the  pond,  sir/* 
she  hear.;  v.n  say. 

..-rwent  looked  on  in  the  greatest  curiosity.    No 

--J  would  tell  them  what  it  was  very  soon.     In- 

!)ening  it  before  them,  he  tuTned  toward  the 

ied  his  writing-desk,  and  laid  it  in  one  of  the 

IKS,   securely   fastening  the   desk  again,   saying, 

hurriedly,  "  I  shall  soon  have  time  to  examine  its  contents 

at  my  leisure ;  the  mysterious  package  must  keep  its  secret 

until  then." 

Rose  had  a  respite.  No  one  noticed  that  she  slipped 
from  their  midst — no  one  noticed  the  white-faced  girl, 
with  the  agony  of  death  in  her  eyes,  who  crept  up  the  sun 
lit  stairs  to  her  own  room. 

It  \\as  of  no  use  now  to  crv  out  for  mercv — her  :.in 


. 
PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  251" 


had  found  her  out — in  less  than  an  hour,  the  lips  she 
loved  would  blazon  her  story  to  the  world,  yet  she  woGld 
not  have  cared  for  the  whole  world  if  she  had  not  lost 
him — the  love  of  her  heart,  the  other  half  of  her  soul. 

He  would  learn  that  she  who  claimed  him  had  no  right 
to  his  love — no  right  to  share  his  home  and  bear  his  narn'e. 

He  would  see  that  her  marriage  to  Osric  Lawrence  h$d 
occurred  before  she  had  ever  met  him,  and  he  knew — all 
the  world  who  read  the  papers  knew — that  Osric  Law 
rence's  death  had  not  taken  place  until  after  that  second 
marriage,  and  he  would  believe  that  she  must  have  known 
all  this  and  gone  through  the  ceremony  to  dupe  him,  and 
how  he  would  loathe  her  for  it. 

He  would  know  then  whose  hand  had  torn  the  page 
from  the  register,  lest  it  should  ever  appear  as  a  witness 
against  her — he  would  understand  all.  She  would  be 
driven  from  among  them — they  would  never  forgive  her 
— even  Lillian  could  find  no  pity  for  her.  Oh,  it  was  hard 
— hard. 

If  she  had  but  told  him  all  from  the  very  first — if  she 
had  but  told  her  story,  and  abided  the  consequence,  how 
different  life  might  have  been  for  her.  She  had  shad 
owed  her  soul  with  a  secret,  and  the  end  had  been  that 
she  had  sinned  to  keep  that  secret,  and  the  sin  had  found 
her  out  at  last. 

With  unsteady  steps  she  gained  her  own  room.  She 
meant  to  gather  up  the  few  jewels  that  were  hers  and  fly 
from  their  midst,  fly  like  some  haunted  creature  from  out 
raged  love,  humiliation,  and  disgrace,  but  the  moments 
flew  quick-winged  past  her. 

Long  and  earnestly  she  gazed  into  the  mirror  that  re?- 
•fleeted  that  death-white  face,  alas,  so  beautiful  still  in  all 
its  pallid  loveliness — there  were  few  snch  faces  in  the 
world. 

"  All  in  vain,"  she  said,  "  beauty  was  given  me  all  in 
vain." 

She  had  betrayed  her  gentle  sister  to  win  Royal  Mon 
tague's  love!  she  had  taken  him  from  Lillian,  claimed 
him  by  a  terrible  fraud,  a  pitiful  preter. 


hour  he  would  kno\v  lunv  she  had  deceived  him.  He 
would  know  the  wretched  story  of  her  folly.  He  would 
wonder  in  horror  how  she  could  have  steeped  her  soul  in 
such  a  deadly  sin ! 

Oh,  cruel  power  of  love  that  had  blinded  her  so  to  the 
sense  of  right,  that  had  deadened  the  voice  of  conscience ! 

An  open  book  lay  on  the  table,  and  the  first  words  that 
met  her  gaze  were  these,  "  Every  sin  must  be  atoned  for 
sooner  or  later — it -is  the  just  decree  of  Heaven."  She 
sunk  clown  in  a  chair  by  the  table.  She  laid  her  hands 
over  the  printed  words  to  shut  them  out  of  her  sight — 
they  caused  keen  pain,  in  her  fluttering  heart,  and  her 
brain  reeled. 

She  did  not  weep  now  as  she  had  done  months  ago, 
when  she  wept  for  the  love  that  had  gone  out  to  another. 
The  time  for  tears  was  over  with  beautiful,  unhappy  Rose. 

She  had  taken  Lillian's  love  from  her,  but  no  good  had 
come  of  it. 

"My  life  has  all  gone  wrong!"  she  cried;  "wrong 
from  beginning  to  end !  Nothing  can  undo  it !  " 

She  opened  the  locket  she  always  wore  about  her  neck, 
and  which  contained  the  handsome,  smiling  face  of  Royal 
Montague,  and  covered  it  with  passionate,  agonized 
kisses,  but  no  tear  fell  from  the  burning  eyes  upon  the 
loved  features.  Royal's  eyes  looked  up  reproachfully, 
accusingly,  to  hers.  She  dared  not  meet  the  steady  gaze 
lest  it  drive  her  mad. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

Few  sndder  splits  were  ever  witnessed  than  that  pre 
sent  cl  by  the  beautiful  girl  as  she  bent  in  an  agony  more 
criu-1  than  death  over  the  pictured  face  of  the  man  she 
loved  so  well.  No  idle  sophistries  came  to  her  in  this  hour 
to  ease  her  conscience  of  one  pang  of  remorse.  She  stood 
face  to  face  with  the  sin  she  had  committed.  She  saw 
clearly  as  she  had  never  seen  before  what  a  terrible  thing 
she  had  done  in  claiming  Royal  Montague. 


LMvKTTV     K(»SK    HALL.  253 

She  heard  Royal's  step  in  the  corridor  below,  and  a  mo 
ment  later  the  library  door  close  after  him.  She  knew 
what  that  meant,  and  she  realized  that  in  a  few  brief  sec 
onds  he  would  be  standing  in  her  room,  the  torn  page  in 
his  hand. 

She  had  forgotten  that  she  had  intended  to  fly  from  him 
— to  fly  at  once  from  Linden  Villa,  and  cross  its  threshold 
never  again. 

A  card  lay  on  the  table.  She  took  a  pencil  and  mechan 
ically  wrote  these  words  to  Lillian : 

"  MY  POOR  SISTER — When  you  read  these  lines  I  shall 
have  left  you.  You  remember  the  sad  story  of  the  young 
girl  which  I  related  to  you  a  few  evenings  since.  Oh, 
Lilly,  Lilly,  pity  me — that  story  was  my  own !  I  feel  that 
I  am  going.  My  heart  is  slowly  breaking  as  I  write.  Be 
kind  to  Royal,  Lilly,  if  I  should  die.  In  time  try  to  make 
him  happy,  but  do  not  let  him  curse  my  memory.  If  I 
have  sinned  I  have  suffered  a  punishment  more  cruel  than 
death -" 

Steps  sounded  without.  She  knew  it  was  Lillian,  and  at 
the  same  moment  she  could  hear  the  library  door  open, 
and  Royal  Montague  dashed  up  the  steps  toward  her 
room. 

Rose's  frightened  eyes  turned  toward  the  door.  A 
world  of  agony  and  piteous  entreaty  was  frozen  in  them. 
The  white  lips  moved.  '*  Royal — my  love — I—  The 
white  fingers  clutched  the  pencil  convulsively.  There  was 
a  terrible  throb  at  that  heart  that  had  borne  so  much — a 
grayish  pallor  crept  over  the  beautiful  face — and  the 
chord  of  life  snapped  suddenly  in  twain. 

It  was  Lillian's  hand  that  swung  open  the  door.  Royal 
was  but  a  step  behind  her ;  and,  just  as  hapless  Rose  had 
foreseen,  he  held  the  fluttering  page  in  his  hand,  his  face 
white  with  horror.  He  had  read  the  record.  He  knew 
the  pitiful  truth. 

•cthin^  in  the  pallid  face  so  white,  so  still,  so  set, 
the  y.v-rds  on  his  lips.     Too  late!     Never  again  in 


PRETTY     UOSK    HALL. 

this  world  would  words  of  anger,  sorrow,  or  reproach 
harm  her.  Her  ears  were  closed  to  all  mortal  sounds. 
The  penalty  of  sin  had  wrapped,  its  mantle  closely  about 
her — wrapped  her  close  in  the  folds  of  death ! 

"  Lillian,"  cried  the  young  husband,  springing  into  the 
room,  then  reeling  back  with  a  horrified  cry.  ''  Oh, 
Lillian,  look!  She  is  dead!" 

Lillian's  grief  was  as  frantic  as  his  own,  and  their 
cries  soon  brought  the  servants  flocking  in  terror  to  the 
rot>m.  Royal  Montague  knew  what  had  caused  her  death 
so  suddenly,  and  his  heart  bled. 

He  saw  the  card  on  the  table  addressed  to  Lillian,  which 
might  reveal  her  story,  and  he  transferred  it  to  his  pocket 
together  with  the  torn  page  ere  others  came  hurrying  into 
•the  room. 

The  scene  that  followed  they  never  forgot.  Royal 
Montague  could  not  be  persuaded  to  leave  the  darkened 
room  where  the  dead  girl  lay.  He  would  have  given  his 
life  to  have  saved  her.  Oh,  how  different  life  might  have 
been  if  she  had  made  a  confidant  of  him  from  the  very 
first! 

He  forgot  her  sin — remembering  only  how  he  had  loved 
the  beautiful,  brilliant  girl  who  lay  before  him  with  her 
white  hands  crossed  over  her  pulseless  breast.  Never 
more  would  those  hands  caress  him,  nevermore  would 
the  dark  eyes  brighten,  the  tender,  laughing  lips  smile  for 
him.  She  lay  silent — Heaven  alone  would  judge  beauti 
ful,  hapless  Rose. 


The  funeral  was  over  at  last,  and  when  all  that  was 
mortal  of  the  lovely  girl  had  been  laid  to  rest,  then,  and 
not  until  then,  did  Royal  Montague  give  Lillian  the  card 
which  her  sister  had  left  for  her. 

Royal  and  Lillian  were  the  only  ones  who  ever  knew 
her  story,  and  they  wisely  decided  to  bury  it  forever  from 
the  eyes  of  the  world.  The  words  on  the  marble  shaft 
that  pointed  heavenward,  and  around  which  the  wooing 
breeze  and  the  robins  loved  to  linger,  read  : 


PRETTY    ROSE    HALL.  255 

ACRED  TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  ROSE, 
BELOVED  WIFE  OF  ROYAL  MONTAGUE, 
AGED  EIGHTEEN  YEARS. 
May  she  sleep  in  peace. 

Celia  Derwent  never  knew  the  fatal  revelation  the 
weighted  handkerchief  revealed.  Nor  did  Willard  Sin 
clair  learn,  when  he  read  the  sad  story  of  the  death  of 
Royal  Montague's  young  wife,  that  it  was  the  same  girl 
whom  he  had  known  as  Rose  Hall. 

From  the  moment  beautiful  Rose  was  laid  to  rest,  Mrs. 
Hall  commenced  to  fail  visibly.  She  loved  Lillian — gen 
tle  Lillian  who  was  spared  to  her — but,  ah,  Rose  had  been 
her  idol! 

She  never  knew  the  pitiful  story  of  Rose's  life.  Lillian 
and  Royal  mercifully  spared  her  the  knowledge  of  the 
tragedy  that  had  passed  beneath  her  very  eyes.  It  was 
better  so. 

A  year  or  more  after  the  death  of  Rose  the  dear  old 
lady  lingered,  but  she  was  never  known  to  smile  again. 
[And  when  at  last  the  end  came,  and  she  knew  that  Lillian 
would  soon  be  left  alone  and  friendless,  she  sent  for 
Royal  Montague.  "  I  commend  her  to  your  care,  Royal/' 
she  said.  Those  were  the  last  words  she  ever  uttered. 

There  was  but  one  way  in  which  Royal  Montague  knew 
how  to  properly  care  for  gentle  Lillian  Hall,  and  that  was 
to  marry  her. 

At  first  sweet  Lillian  demured,  tears  falling  like  rain 
from  her  blue  eyes. 

"  Oh,  no,  no !  She  could  never  take  the  place  of  beau 
tiful,  hapless  Rose." 

Gently  he  led  her  to  the  desk,  where  they  kept  the  card 
Rose  had  written — that  last  solemn  farewell — and  he  read 
Rose's  last  words  to  her :  "  Try  to  make  him  happy." 

"Do  you  realize  what  she  meant  by  that,  dear?"  he 
asked,  gently  drawing  the  slender,  shrinking  form  toward 
him.  "  It  means  that  we  shall  marry,  if  we  can  lean-  t<> 
love  each  other,  and  we  know  by  past  experience  that  lov 
ing  each  other  will  be  no  difficult  task." 


-')'.*  PRETTY     ROSE    HALL. 

Her  answer  must  have  pleased  him,  for,  on  one  of  the 
outward-bound  steamers  that  sailed  for  Europe  not  long 
after,  were  Royal  Montague  and  Lillian  his  wife. 

Celia  Derwent  never  married.    Perhaps  fate  si 
avenging  hand  in  condemning  her  to  a  loveless  life. 

There  is  little  more  to  add.  Royal  and  Lillian  are 
happy  now. 

They  have  been  married  several  years,  and  two  children 
bless  their  union — a  sturdy  boy  with  blue  flashing  eyes, 
and  a  little  g'irl-^—  a  timid,  beautiful  little  creature,   with 
great  dark  soulful  velvety  eyes,  a  lovely  face  like 
son    heart    of    a    passion-flower,    and    a    grac 
crowned  with  a  mass  of  jetty  curlinghair. 

The    boy    they    call    Royal,    and    the    dark-r 
maiden  is  named  Rose. 

Though  Lillian  and  Royal  are  happy  in  their  perfect 
love,  and  know  it  was  the  will  of  Heaven  that  they  should! 
be  given  to  each  other  at  last,  in  the  sunshine  of  their: 
happiness  they  never  forget  that  other  Rose  whose  mem* 
ory  is  ever  dear  to  them,  and  many  a  tear  they  dropj 
among  the  beautiful  crimson  blossoms  that  wreathe  trMj 

grave  of  hapless  Rose. 

. 

THE  END. 


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